


Room For Three

by warren_space



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Humor, Is this crack? It's a little stupid, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn Watching, Sex Toys, Verbal Humiliation, Wall Sex, neurodivergent character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 77,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warren_space/pseuds/warren_space
Summary: Naomi and Holden make room in their relationship for two sparkly new toys. Spoiler alert: one of them is Amos.
Relationships: Amos Burton/Jim Holden, Amos Burton/Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata, Amos Burton/Naomi Nagata, Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata
Comments: 146
Kudos: 129





	1. the things we'd do

Holden wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t had a couple of drinks in him, but he’d been thinking about it for a little while. Naomi was curled up to his side, just as tipsy as he was, warm like a furnace and more beautiful every time he looked at her. He chose a bad time to do the asking, just as she was pulling the bulb of liquor from her lips. 

“Would you ever try anal?” Holden asked. Naomi didn’t quite do a spit-take, but liquid dribbled from the corners of her lips as she stopped herself from spraying it into Holden’s face. She composed herself and furrowed her brow. 

“Like, in _my_ ass?” she asked. 

“Yeah, who else’s?” he asked. She rolled her eyes affectionately at the innocence of the question. 

“Well, I can only think of one other ass in this relationship,” she said, pinching the object of her insinuation. Holden startled, and they both laughed, Naomi first and Holden after. 

“Well I can only think of one cock in this relationship,” said Holden. Naomi made an amused unsure face with closed lips and raised eyebrows. 

“That’s cute, sweetie,” she condescended. “Give me forty-five minutes and a twenty. I will leave this hotel room and find somewhere that sells a cock I can shove in your ass.”

“I’m not sending you on a drunken quest through Tycho station to find me a dildo. Also, if you’re going to put a silicon penis in my ass, can we at least splurge for one that costs more than twenty dollars?” 

“Of course, honey. But it wouldn’t be much of a quest. I’m pretty sure I saw a vending machine on the way here from the docks full of nice, expensive toys. Could get you a pocket-pussy too, while I’m at it.” It turns out it was a night full of Holden saying things he wouldn’t have said if he wasn’t drunk, because the next thing he started to say was exceptionally awful.

“Why would I need a pocket-pussy when I have—”

“Finish that sentence and you’re going to wish you had one,” she threatened, clearly only pretending to be offended. Holden laughed and kissed her temple apologetically. 

“I’d let you fuck my ass,” Holden declared. Naomi snorted a laugh. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Would you?” Holden asked. Were he sober, he’d have understood that the change in subject was a ‘no.’ He was not sober. 

“My pussy not good enough for you?” she said instead of ‘no.’ Holden’s adorable face was very difficult to say no to, but not difficult enough that she’d take a cock in her ass because of it. 

“Your pussy is… everything. The whole universe. God Herself.” 

“Okay, maybe enough rice wine for you, Captain.” 

“I love this pussy,” he said, maneuvering to put his face between her fully-clothed legs. “I love you.” He kissed the seam of her pants between her thighs and returned to his place beside her. 

“You’re plastered,” she said. He wasn’t. Definitely more than tipsy, but somewhere before plastered. Part of it was just that he was weird, and very comfortable being weird around Naomi. 

“I love you, too,” he said to Naomi’s face, and kissed her lips.

“Nice to know who comes first between me and my vagina.” Holden denied the accusation with a dismissive hand gesture. 

“So that’s a ‘no’ on anal,” he recapped. 

“That’s a no, baby. Sorry.”

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. Just a thought.” He fussed with the v-neckline of her t-shirt, the one she always wore to bed. It was a comfort. He was ready to move on, accept her answer, and pretend he never asked, when she said something that would be confusing even if he wasn’t in a state of prolonged alcohol-induced confusion. 

“If you want to fuck somebody’s ass, Amos would probably be down,” she said. She delivered the suggestion casually, like it wasn’t the most brain-bending, mindfucking, donkeyballs insanity-sentence anyone had ever said to him. 

“Wh-what?” he asked pathetically, lacking the bandwidth to even process the words. 

“Not probably. Definitely,” she clarified, as if the modifier was what needed clarifying. Holden sat in silence for a little while like a computer shutting down, staring with an unreadable expression into Naomi’s eyes. She waved in front of his eyes to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep with his eyes open.

“I don’t even know where to begin with what you just said to me,” he finally said. “I guess, first of all, to be clear, I don’t want to fuck just anybody’s ass. I’m not just, like, craving ass.” 

“You’re allowed,” she said. Holden’s face scrunched up. 

“I don’t know that I want your permission to _crave ass."_

“It’s yours, take it or leave it,” she said, hands up in surrender. Holden didn’t understand how she was acting so flippantly, when she’d just pressed control-alt-delete on his entire worldview. 

“Next question, are we in some kind of open relationship I don’t know about?” 

“No, you’re mine. I’m just willing to share.” 

“Like a threesome?”

“Not if you’re not into it,” she reassured. 

“Right now I’m still working my way through the whole fucking Amos in the ass thing, if that’s okay.”

“Take your time, my dear,” she said, kissing his forehead patiently. 

“Since when would Amos let me fuck his ass?” Naomi shrugged with her hands. 

“I don’t know. You’re hot. Probably since he saw you, the first time.” 

“Wait,” said Holden, shaking his head, “are you assuming he wants to have sex with me because _you_ think I’m hot, or has he told you that?”

“We used to talk about it, on the Cant.” 

Holden shut down again, then rebooted. 

“You… why am I just learning this now?”

“They weren’t exactly my brightest moments, shooting the shit about a cute boy with Amos fucking Burton, placing bets on who was more likely to get him naked.” Loading...

“You placed b— what did you win?” 

“I didn’t. I thought he had a better shot.” Error. 

“No way.”

“Way.” 

“What did he win?”

“He never came to collect.”

“What was on the table?” 

“You don’t want to know.” 

“Naomi.” She shushed him.

“No more questions. You wanna eat my pussy?” 

“No. Yes. No. Yes. No... Yes. After you tell me what you _apparently_ wagered over my naked ass.”

“It was a drunken bet, nothing was meant.” 

“Naomi.” 

“I said he could play with my boobs,” she murmured, shrinking in on herself. Holden’s eyes widened in surprise more than anger or jealousy. 

“What?” 

“I said that on the unlikely chance James Holden wanted to have sex with me, I’d let Amos play with my tits. He’s always had a weird fascination with them. I think it might be an Oedipal thing.” 

“Ew.” 

“I didn’t think it would happen. Besides, the whole thing was mostly a joke, anyway.” 

_“Mostly.”_

“I was very drunk and very horny. It didn’t matter. He never even asked.”

“My head hurts,” he whined, and buried his head in her chest. She rubbed his back.

“Please know that I never lied to you when I told you you had nothing to worry about with Amos.” 

“Okay.” They stayed like that for a little while, Holden trying to focus on how much he loved and trusted Naomi, and instead finding himself fantasizing about the two engineers going at it. How would that even go down? Naomi was all sensual confidence and dominance in bed. Holden imagined Amos would be dominant, too, if his demeanor was anything to go by, though much less smooth. The mental image baffled and aroused in equal measure. Like an unstoppable force getting fucked by an immovable object. Sir Isaac Newton would have something to say about it, for sure. 

Holden appeared completely unhinged when he pulled away with a resolution. 

“Just promise me,” he insisted with wide eyes, “if you fuck him—”

“I’m not gonna—” He shushed her with a finger to her lips.

“Promise me, if you fuck him, you’ll let me watch,” he said quietly. She raised her eyebrows as she processed that. 

_“That’s_ your one demand?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you want that?” she asked. He shrugged with his shoulders. 

“Never thought about it until now.” 

“What do you think about it now?” 

“A lot of question marks and exclamation points.”

“Are those… positive symbols?” 

“I think so. Hard to tell.” 

“You want me and Amos to… cuckold you?” Naomi asked, her eyebrows high in surprise. That was not how she’d expected the conversation to go. 

“Sounds bad like that,” Holden shook his head frantically. “I just wanna see his big cock in you.” 

“That’s what that means.”

“Sure, but the implication is that wanting to see that makes _me_ a cuckold, which is flawed. I think that makes me a very normal bisexual man who likes to see very hot things happen. Like porn, but with people I love very much and would die for. Who would turn down front row seats to that show?”

“Sounds like the real problem is you having a negative opinion of cuckolds,” Naomi argued, humoring the ridiculous debate, “and not that being a cuckold is inherently bad.”

“I just resent the idea that wanting to see Amos fuck you is, like… part of my identity. You suck my cock, that doesn’t make you, like, a cocksucker.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“If I called you that, would you ever suck my dick again?”

“Absolutely I would not.” 

“My point exactly. If sucking cock doesn’t make you a cocksucker, being cuckolded doesn’t make me a cuckold. These are just things we do.”

“But watching me have sex with Amos. That’s something you’d do.”

“Apparently. He’s kinda hot. Did you know that?”

“I did,” said Naomi. Holden honest-to-god growled like a feral dog. “Don’t worry, you’re hotter.” 

“You’re hottest. Yeah, let’s have a threesome.” 

“I thought you wanted to watch.” 

“Why stop there? I’m attracted to you, and you’re attracted to Amos, and Amos is attracted to you, and you and Amos are attracted to me, and I’m attracted to Amos… am I attracted to Amos? Holy shit. I’m attracted to Amos. Naomi.” 

“Okay, baby. Maybe it’s time we go to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning.” 

“And I would let you fuck me with a strap-on,” he ignored her in a frenzy, “and I’m attracted to Amos,” he said, like doing math in his head. “Oh no.”

“Bedtime, Jim.”

“Be honest with me, Naomi, love of my life.”

“Always,” she promised.

“Would I let Amos fuck me in the ass?”

“I think that’s up to you, my dear.” 

“Sure, but you know me.” She considered it, then giggled drunkenly. 

“Yeah, babe, I think you probably would.”

“Whoa.”

“Good night, Jim,” said Naomi warmly, and wrapped herself around Holden, who had curled himself into a ball at some point beyond Naomi’s tipsy recollection. 

“Why’m I the little spoon?” he grumbled. 

“You need it more.” 

“Fair.” 

Holden fell asleep. 


	2. dildo quest

“What about this one?” Naomi suggested, smirking as her index figure travelled the impossibly-long distance from the base to the tip of a massive silicone dildo on display. Its coloration was skin-like, a warm brown color that was deeper at the balls and pinker at the tip. The packaging boasted its realism, though as Holden’s cheeks reddened, he doubted that he’d consider that a good thing. 

“It looks so… human,” said Holden, and even he didn’t know if it was a compliment or a complaint. 

“Look, it gets soft, too. Press of a button.” 

“Why would I want it soft?” 

“To create the illusion,” she explained. “They have ones that squirt, too.”

“How does it— what does it— I don’t want to know. Can’t I have all of the good parts of a penis and none of the bad parts?”

“I didn’t get to choose what  _ you _ put inside  _ me.” _

“Neither did I!” Naomi laughed, and gave a face that said ‘touche.’ 

“Okay, my love. What are you looking for, if not realism?”

“I don’t know,” he almost whined, “I was hoping one would just call out to me. You know, like, the wand chooses the wizard, or whatever.” Naomi rolled her eyes fondly. 

“What do you see when you imagine it, then?” She asked, the picture of patience. Holden closed his eyes and felt incredibly stupid, so he opened them again. 

“I don’t know exactly, but nothing too big. And nothing life-like. That thing gives me the fucking heebie-jeebies.” 

“You say that like you’re never had a real human penis in your body.” 

“Emphasis on  _ real. _ None of that uncanny valley shit, thanks.” 

“Picky, picky.” 

“Sorry. Why don’t you pick it out? It’s supposed to be  _ your _ penis, right?” 

“I like to think it’s  _ our _ penis,” she joked. “What about this one?” She tossed another display item his way. It was not too big and not too small. The shape was like a human penis, but it was purple, sparkly, and translucent, and it didn’t have balls, which Holden considered a plus. He wasn’t being impregnated by it, he’d told Naomi earlier, so it didn’t need reproductive organs. 

“I don’t know. Isn’t it for girls?”

“Jim, we are picking out a fake penis for me to strap on and put in your ass, and you’re worried about traditional gender roles? How about we get my toolbox and I’ll shove the handle of a screwdriver up you, would that make you feel like a man, Earther?” 

“Is the screwdriver purple?” he joked. She elbowed him. 

“If you’re having second thoughts about this, we don’t have to do it. I’m very happy being the bottom-bitch in this relationship.”

“Let’s be honest, I’ve been putting my dick in you for years, and you’ve never been the bottom-bitch in this relationship.”

“And you love it that way,” she gloated.

“I do. Which, I’m pretty sure, is what makes me the bottom-bitch in the relationship.” 

“So why are you being so stubborn about this? I know you don’t have a problem with a purple dildo. Why the stick up your ass about putting a stick up your ass?” 

“Nice. Classy.” 

“Thank you,” she said proudly. 

“I don’t know. It’s been a while, I guess. And I’m still a little freaked out about Amos.” 

“This is for you and me. We don’t have to get Amos involved if you don’t want to.” 

“I wouldn’t be freaked out if I didn’t want to.” She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Then we’ll make it happen, eventually. When you’re ready. We have all the time in the world to work up to it. He doesn’t have to know about our pretty purple little secret, does he?”

“He better not.”

“He won’t. But I have a feeling as soon as this little thing is inside you, you’re going to be begging for him. You won’t even remember why you were nervous.” 

“Amos is not who I plan on thinking about when you’re inside me.” 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” 

The dildo was the hard part, proverbially and otherwise, but there were still more decisions to be made. They were picking out the harness, boxed dildo in Holden’s hand, when the worst thing that could have happened, did. 

“Holy shit,” came a familiar voice behind them. “Heya, Boss. Cap. Whatcha got there?” 

“Naomi,” Holden said, not acknowledging the man. “What did you say the odds were of someone we know seeing us here?”

“I believe I said ‘exactly zero?’”

“Right, right. And would you, in your expert opinion, say that Amos fucking Burton is, quote, ‘someone we know?’” he interrogated harshly, like an accusation. 

“I would say that,” she said, her voice sounding guilty. 

“Hmm. Interesting,” Holden surmised. 

“Lemme see that,” Amos said, unaffected as ever as he ignored the redness of Holden’s cheeks and ripped the package from his hands. “No, no way. This is way too small.” 

“I don’t think you get a say,” said Naomi, way too politely for Holden’s liking. 

“He doesn’t get a say. Also, he’s fired.” Amos just laughed and squeezed Holden’s ass.

“Don’t be shy, Cap. The only thing surprising about any of this is how tiny this pathetic little toy is. Come on, let’s get something nice and fat for this sweet little ass, huh? You deserve it. Hell, I’ll pay.”

“Why are you even here?” Holden asked. 

“Was outta lube.” 

“You couldn’t go to a convenience kiosk like everybody else?” Naomi asked. 

“I like comin’ here. They got good porn.” 

“So does your hotel room,” Holden pointed out. 

“Seen it all. Plus, there’s something sexy about a magazine, in an ancient way. Like a museum of cocks and assholes.”

“Quaint,” said Naomi. 

“How poetic,” Holden deadpanned. 

“Yeah, that, or Holden looked nervous when you left lunch so I tracked his comm and followed you here.” That was a little more likely, statistically speaking, and a lot more infuriating. 

“Like I said, fired,” barked Holden. 

“You can’t fire me. I have blackmail fodder now.” 

“I hardly think two consenting, fully clothed adults behaving completely appropriately in a public adult toy shop constitutes blackmail material,” Naomi argued. 

“Maybe not, but the captain’s dick twitched when I squeezed his ass, and that’s at least embarrassing enough to leverage my job, which, let’s be honest, wasn’t on the line anyway. Holden likes me too much.” 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I hate you,” Holden said pathetically. 

“Well, little-Holden likes me, anyway,” he said, flicking Holden in the referenced region. Holden flinched and pouted, but didn’t know how to deny the obvious biological reaction happening in his pants. “Speaking of little, this is a dildo for dolls. If the captain’s gonna fantasize about my cock in that gorgeous ass, you’re going to need something more like that bad boy.” He signaled to the largest sample on display in the store, under a sign that advertised it as ‘The Punisher.’ It was everything Holden didn’t want— long, thick, and realistic in everything but its length and thickness. If Amos’s dick was anywhere near as big, Holden was ready to throw all of his threesome fantasies out an airlock. 

“You are not that big,” Naomi said. 

“Why do you know that?” asked Holden.

“Relax, Cap. I never put it in her. But we went dancing a couple’a times on the Cant and, well, you know how she dances.” Naomi smiled flirtatiously and danced a little, her ass grinding against Holden’s growing erection.

“We’re in public,” Holden implored. 

“We’re in a sex toy shop, buying a dildo. And you’re hard,” she pointed out.

“Big, too,” Amos mused. “Fuck, Cap.” 

“Shuddup,” sputtered Holden. “Can we just get the toy and go back to the room?” 

“You should get cleaner for it,” advised Amos. “And water-based lube. And a bigger toy, but that’s just my preference.”

“Why do you know so much about sex toys?” Holden asked. Amos looked at him like that was the dumbest question in the universe, and it probably was. 

“I live on a spaceship, and I like cock. I’m not all that into Alex, and you’re taken. I got needs.” 

“And— if— okay.” Holden wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. He’d known that Amos would have sex with him if he asked, but he didn’t expect him to be so up-front about that. 

“Well, I gotta go jerk off. I’ll see you two lovebirds at dinner?”

“See ya, big guy,” said Naomi, apparently unfazed by the declaration. Amos winked and left. 

“That man is going to kill me,” Holden said once he was gone. 

“And not in the way anyone would’ve expected,” Naomi agreed. 

“I’m definitely going to let him fuck me, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.” Holden raised his eyebrows and looked at her. 

“Well, at least we’re on the same page.” 


	3. marking time

Their clothes made a trail on the floor from the entrance of the hotel room to the foot of their bed. There had been no seduction about the stripping; it was the practiced shedding of clothing that came with years of familiarity, paired with the desperation of two lovers who needed each other like they needed helmets on a spacewalk. 

The purple dildo and its harness laid orphaned in their packaging, still in the bag that had fallen to the floor with their clothes. It would have its moment later, like Chekov’s gun. For now, Holden and Naomi were wanton with anticipation, and no hunk of plastic, no matter how enticing it was to both of them, could come before their need to feel skin against skin. 

“Do you think he’d be rough with you?” Naomi asked out of nowhere. Holden furrowed his brow and looked up at her from his place between her legs. He was in no position mentally to think about Amos while he indulged in the intoxicating taste of her.

“Am I boring you?” He asked. She shook her head and ran her fingers through his curls, coaxing him back to her. 

“No, baby, feels good,” she reassured. She wrapped her legs around him and moaned luxuriously as he licked her, and he let himself be convinced by the performance. He was sucking on her clit with three fingers moving inside her when she spoke again. “But he’d use you like a fucking ragdoll, you know that, right?” 

He did know that. In fact, it was very damn near the only thing he’d thought about since she’d planted the idea in his head on that drunken night nearly a week before. Such thoughts were only amplified by Amos’s brazen behavior in the sex shop earlier that day. The idea of being taken by his massive mechanic had transformed quickly from an absurd, tipsy notion that Naomi devised, to a persistent, intrusive fantasy over the course of the week. Now, it took its final form as a very real possibility, something that would pretty much definitely happen unless he objected to it. It terrified him to his core that he didn’t object to it. Holden was sure Amos would use him like a ragdoll, and he was more than okay with it. 

“I’m quite aware,” he said, resting his forehead on her hip bone. She stroked his hair. 

“Is that what you want?” 

He hummed a non-answer that sounded something like “I don’t know,” and figured this was something they’d have to actually talk about eventually, no matter how badly he’d rather ignore it. He just wished that conversation could happen  _ after _ they both got to come, but it was clear that it was distracting Naomi. He moved to rest his head on her shoulder, and she kissed his forehead. 

“I think maybe I don’t mind being roughed up a little bit,” he said, so quietly it was almost inaudible. He seemed more surprised by that confession that she was. 

“Yeah, I guess that would explain your thing about Bobbie.” It wasn’t posed as an accusation, but it felt like one to Holden. 

“I don’t have a  _ thing  _ about Bobbie.”

“Right, sure, so if the conversation we were having was about a threesome with Bobbie, you’d say ‘no’ to that?” 

“I would… consider it…” he said, unconvincingly. 

“Mhm,” she smiled with closed lips, an expression that said ‘I’m onto you.’

“Okay, maybe I have a thing for very confident, powerful women,” he said, trying to spin it into a compliment. He kissed her cheek to emphasize that he was talking about her. She rolled her eyes.

“Or you have a thing for people who could play catch with your body in full gravity.” 

“I don’t—” Holden started, but even the idea of being alone in a room with both Bobbie and Amos at the same time filled him with a very sexy kind of dread, so he stopped trying to argue. “Sorry.” 

“You’re allowed to have fantasies,” she said. “For instance, I can’t stop fantasizing about Amos’s big, thick cock fucking you open while you eat my cunt.” He shivered at the mental picture. “Or, shit, maybe we’ll break out our new toy and fuck you from both ends, how ‘bout that?”

“Naomi,” he half-protested and half-plead. The dirty words, spoken in her beautiful, soothing voice, did nothing to alleviate the  _ situation _ drooling over his abs and her thigh. Her smirk informed him that she wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Jim, baby. You want this, don’t you? You want him?” He had half a mind to say something noncommittal, like,  _ I want it if you want it _ , but that wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t a favor to her, nor a compromise he was making to spice up their patterned sex life. The sex they had, just the two of them together, was spectacular— even when it was predictable, though that certainly wasn’t always the case. Adding Amos into the equation wasn’t a band-aid on any problem, and it wasn’t a show he was only willing to put on for her because she’d asked nicely and deserved to have everything in the world she wanted. The answer, the real answer, the honest-to-God answer, was more simple than any of that: 

“Yes,” he said plainly. She smiled. 

“If you can tell me what you want, you can have it,” she teased. She trailed the pad of her middle fingertip over the length of his cock— from the base, up the underside, and through the mess at the slit. It was an infinitesimal fraction of what he needed to be satisfied. He tried to grind into her thigh, to steal the friction he desperately needed, but she stopped him like training a dog. He didn’t know what it said about him that he liked that, but he didn’t have the capacity to examine it. Something about the mention of Amos made him feral with want. Whatever it was seemed to affect Naomi in kind, like some kind of animal pheromone. It was exhilarating. “Use your words.” 

“I don’t know what I want,” he whined. Naomi made a show of contemplating that, humming and squinting and prolonging the hesitation. Holden tried to wait patiently, though the deep, insistant ache in his balls did no such thing. He tried to give her a better answer. “I want him to take what he wants. I want you both to take what you want.” 

“Yeah?” she raised her eyebrows. “You gonna be a good little toy for us? Let us use you however we want?” 

“Yes,” he moaned, drawing out the ‘s’ sound like a hissing snake. Satisfied with his honesty, she repositioned herself over him, one knee on either side of his supine body, and let the tip of his erection slide through the wetness of her cunt. It was a tease, still, but one that held the promise of something more. The ache intensified. 

“Would you let him tie you up?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“Would you let him blindfold you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Would you let him spank you?” He swallowed before he answered: 

“Yes.” She hummed. 

“Would you let me?” she asked.

“Let you what?” 

“Spank you.” 

“Yes,” he answered. “Or tie me up, or blindfold me. Anything.” She considered that, and then came to a conclusion. 

“Okay. On your hands and knees,” she commanded. Holden stilled. 

“Wait, right now?” 

“Why not?” 

“I kind of really need to be inside you like, twenty five minutes ago.” He looked pointedly down at his dark pink erection. Her laugh was evil. 

“All the more reason to make you wait a little longer.” He begged her with his eyes to reconsider, but she didn’t budge. She moved to a standing position beside the bed, all length and confidence, and he scrambled to all fours. Her delicate palms felt firmly up the backs of his thighs and over his ass, then back down. “Best ass on the Cant,” she mused, “everyone agreed.” 

“Nice to know I left a legacy.” He heard the breath of a laugh, then felt a sharp pain on the back of his right thigh. That shut him up. 

“Good boy,” she cooed, and he really, _ really _ wished he didn’t like that so much. She spanked him again, solidly on one globe of his ass with the lengths of her fingers, then once again harder with her palm. Then the pad of her thumb brushed over the rim of his hole, and if he were fifteen years younger he’d have shot like a rocket all over the bed’s comforter. Instead, he made an embarrassing guttural noise, and his cock once again begged to be touched. She spit on his hole and rubbed away the wetness, then spanked his rim as best as she could with the tips of two fingers. Holden’s first thought was that a riding crop might be useful for that purpose, but he resolved to never say that out loud. Another trip to that godforsaken store might be the death of him. “I can’t wait to see this pretty hole stuffed full of Amos’s come.” 

“Naomi,” he warned. Naomi was always a lot more shameless in bed than he was, but she never talked dirty quite like this. He liked it. Painfully so. She swatted his ass again, then again, and again, and again, and then she took pity on him. 

“Okay, okay, c’mere.” She got back on the bed and pulled him on top of herself. “I’d make you beg, but that would mean I would have to wait, too, and I don’t want to do that.” 

He snorted a laugh and finally pressed inside her. Her eyes fell closed and she moaned as he grinded deep into her body, his lips latched on the side of her neck and his hands gripping at the sides of her body. All of the unfamiliarity and insecurity fell away as he kissed her, moved with her like he was supposed to. He stopped worrying, stopped thinking about anything but the sound of her moans, the shape of her breasts, and the trail her blunt fingernails left on his upper back. 

As he caressed the soft swells of her tits, a possessive, animal urge came over him. He stalled the slick slide of his cock and moved so his face fit perfectly in her cleavage, pulled one breast into his mouth by the skin and sucked. He alternated between them like a hoover, working his lips and teeth over her warm skin while the pad of one thumb massaged at her clit until she came. He didn’t stop sucking even after she finished, not until he was sure dark purple bruises would populate in the wake of his violent kisses.

“Are you trying to give me hickeys on my tits?” she asked, shortness of breath apparent in her voice. 

“Maybe,” he kind of said. It was muffled against the boob in his mouth, but he figured she understood it, because she laughed.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what I told you about Amos, does it?” 

“What,” he asked as he pulled away for the first time in minutes, “about his Freudian compulsion to be breastfed by you? I’ve completely forgotten about that.” She grimaced at the description, then gave way to laughter. 

“Yeah, right. And you’re not marking me up so he remembers who I belong to?” 

“I would never… admit to being that petty.” Naomi hummed and flipped them over so Holden was on his back, and pressed his knees to his chest. “What are you doing?” 

“Returning the favor,” she said with an impish tone, then spanked one thigh while she sucked a bruise into the other. He jerked off to the feeling of being so owned, and came harder than he could ever remember coming. 

When she was satisfied with the marks that littered his thighs and ass, she fell down beside him, and he curled up into her. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, my love,” she said. 

“Have you always wanted to have sex with Amos?” He wasn’t as jealous as he’d expected to be about the idea of Naomi and Amos together, but he was curious. 

“You know, you’d think a guy with eight parents might be a little less jealous about the idea of group sex.” 

“My parents’ marriage is an economic farming cooperative. They don’t, like, have orgies.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” 

“And if I’m lucky, I never will,” he said, then quickly changed the subject to shake the image from his mind. “I’m not jealous of Amos. I’m down with the polyamory thing if you are. I just want to know if this has been stewing for a while.” 

“No, I haven’t always wanted to have sex with Amos. But I have been curious about it.” 

“What changed? What made it go from a curiosity to a… craving?” 

“I don’t know if I would call it a  _ craving,” _ she said. Holden would definitely call it that, at least speaking for himself. 

“Whatever it is, then. He’s always been hot, and you two have always been close. Why now? What changed?” 

“He changed,” she said definitively, and then she seemed less sure. “I used to think I might be… taking advantage of him, I guess?” The idea of Naomi taking advantage of Amos sexually didn’t compute in Holden’s brain. Besides the fact that he was unequivocally willing and enthusiastic to consent to her, he was twice her size. 

“You know he could break you in half, right?” 

“Yeah,” she said, almost fondly, like she was picturing it and liking what she saw. “But he wouldn’t. He would do anything I asked him to, and not question it once.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

“I got no interest in fucking a lemming,” she explained. Holden understood that, but still didn’t quite understand what had changed.

“He would still do anything you asked.” 

“Yeah, I guess I just understand why now. He’s not some mindless puppy. He just wants to be good. Following the people he trusts is his way of doing that. He loves me, and you. I didn’t think he was capable of that, before. But now… I just think his version of love doesn’t look like yours or mine. That doesn’t make it any less real.”

“And you love him back?” 

“Maybe. I never let myself consider it.” 

“You do,” Holden said. She looked at him with wide eyes, then nodded. 

“Yeah, I suppose I do. I’m sorry if that—”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted. She had nothing to be sorry for. Or, if she was at fault, so, too, was he. Holden’s feelings for Amos had never been easily explained. He had never called it ‘love’ before, but it was as good a word as any. He hadn’t considered those feelings to be romantic, but as images of the three of them flooded into his mind’s eye, he found himself not minding the idea. 

He sat with the news, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t feel the anger or the jealousy he’d expected to overwhelm him. It just made sense. Naomi loving Amos didn’t mean she loved Holden any less, just like Holden loving Amos didn’t mean he loved Naomi any less. 

“If this changes things for you, I understand,” she said, filling the long silence. He was grateful. He hadn’t known what to say. He wasn’t ready to dive head-first into some kind of…  _ thrupple _ … but he also wasn’t ready to discount the idea. “We don’t have to do the threesome thing.”

“Wait, are we talking about a threesome? Or a… what would you even call three people in a relationship?”

“A relationship.” 

“Right, fine. Do you want to spit roast me on his cock, or do you want us to date him?”

“Something tells me asking Amos Burton on a date wouldn’t go over so smoothly. But I’d be open to seeing what he’s up for. That’s all I got.” 

“But if it’s more than sex, your vote is ‘yes.’”

“Yeah,” she answered sheepishly, “I think so.” 

“Okay,” is all he said. He wasn’t ready to cast his vote yet. 

“Does that piss you off?” she asked. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how he felt, but it wasn’t anger. 

“No.” She walked her fingers flirtatiously over his pale thigh. 

“Do you wanna pretend it does and have really hot angry sex?” 

“You’re insatiable.” Luckily, so was he. 


	4. nomi, mamos, and the hole

Amos showed up right on time to the hotel room Naomi and Holden shared with a bag of take-out food in one hand and an unmarked grocery bag in the other. 

“Where’s Alex?” Holden asked immediately, like on defensive mode. 

“Out with Bobbie. Just the three of us tonight,” Amos leered.

“Out, like, on a date?” Holden asked, ignoring the insinuation present in Amos’s statement. Sure, the idea of the three of them alone all night sent a shiver down Holden’s spine, but he had no intention of letting Amos in on that. 

“Unless there was a genie involved and Alex suddenly came anywhere close to Bobbie’s league? No,” answered Amos. “But you know how the two of them drink, so they’re not comin’ home anytime soon, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why would it be?” Holden asked, bluffing. Amos shrugged and sauntered into the room, unaffected as always. He placed the bioplastic food containers on the coffee table, and brought the contents of the other bag into the kitchenette. Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, Amos deftly produced bottles of tequila, orange liqueur, and lime juice from the bag. The ‘trick’ struck fear in Holden’s heart more than it had any right to. He knew how getting drunk with Amos and Naomi would end. Naomi eyed the ingredients on display as Amos pulled a cocktail shaker from a cabinet and filled it with ice. 

“So this is a  _ party  _ party, huh?” said Naomi excitedly. 

“Can I have a word with you, Naomi?” said Holden, already pulling her into the bedroom. 

When they were safely away, he asked: “you do understand he’s trying to get in your pants, right? Last time you drank tequila you tried to take my dick out on the dancefloor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Last time I drank tequila I  _ very successfully  _ got your dick out on the dancefloor, you were just a party pooper about it. But I don’t think _ I’m _ the one Amos is trying to seduce tonight.” 

“Well, he’s gonna have to do better than take out and margaritas,” Holden insisted. Naomi eyed him suspiciously. 

“Is he?” 

“No,” he frowned. Naomi smiled softly at the worried expression, and kissed it away. 

“No pressure, okay?” He nuzzled against her. “Whatever you want, at whatever pace.” 

“Okay,” he said. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, honey. I need you to know I won’t be disappointed if nothing happens.” 

“I know. I might be, though,” he said. Her smile was bright and excited.

When they returned to the living room, Amos was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a mess of bioplastic packing material and paper. The discreet black bag that had concealed it from view as they carried it across the station had been thrown a few yards behind him, and the purple toy wobbled as he waved it at the couple. 

“C’mere, Cap,” he beckoned. “Open your mouth.” 

“Yeah, not happening. I need a drink.” Amos shrugged. Holden forewent the mixers and went straight for the tequila, wincing as it burned down his throat straight from the bottle. The sex, he could manage sober. It was the dinner before the sex that required him inebriated. 

“You’ve been more crass than usual lately,” Naomi accused, “and that’s saying something. What’s up with you?” 

“I don’t know. Horny?” 

“You’re always horny,” Naomi pointed out. Amos nodded his agreement. “You’re not always trying to drive Jim to alcoholism.” Amos looked over to Holden, who was nursing from the bottle of tequila, and moved to confiscate it from him. He took a gulp of his own, and held it out in offering to Naomi. She accepted, and poured a shot into the shaker and started to make a real cocktail. 

“I think the captain is doing a good job of that on his own, if that voice message he left me last week has anything to say about it.” 

“Voice message?” Holden and Naomi asked in unison. Holden’s eyes were wide in fear. Naomi looked excited. Amos was already pressing buttons on his hand terminal. 

_ Hey, big guy. Big, like your shoulders and arms and stuff, not like your... dick. Not that your dick isn’t probably really big or anything, just, like, I’m not thinking about your dick. Well, now I am, a little bit, but only because I said that. It’s not, like, a thing I think about. Often. You probably didn’t think I meant that anyway, did you? Sorry.  _

Amos paused the message and looked at Holden, who was lit up redder than the Martian flag. 

“It is really big,” Amos said plainly. Holden tried to take the newly-shaken margarita from Naomi’s hand, but she kept it away, and sipped from it herself. 

“Delete that,” Holden whined. 

“Don’t you dare,” commanded Naomi. 

“It hasn’t even gotten good yet, wait.” He pressed play. 

_ Uh. Naomi’s asleep. She’s very pretty when she’s sleeping. Not in a creepy way. She’s just really pretty. But you know that, right? ‘Cause you’d do her if she let you?  _

“Wait, pause it again,” Naomi said. He obeyed. “What?” 

“Which part?” Amos asked.

_ “You’d do her if she let you?” _ She was looking at Holden. 

“Can’t we focus on the pretty part?” Holden said with his head in his hands. 

“Good try.” 

“It’s what Amos said to me, when we told him and Alex we were sleeping together, the first time. I asked if it was going to be a problem, and he said, ‘she’s like my sister, but I’d do her if she let me.’” Naomi narrowed her eyes at Amos, then raised her eyebrows as if to reluctantly agree. 

“I hate that that’s kind of an apt way to describe our relationship,” she said. Holden hated it, too, but it wasn’t wrong. Amos pressed play again. 

_ You knew that even before I did. Smart man. She told me you guys used to talk about me, on the Cant. ‘Said you thought I was… cute, or whatever. Hot. I can’t say I ever really thought about, y’know, you and me… doin’ it… but, now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I think maybe I’d’a done you if you asked, too. ‘Cause, like, you’re hot shit with your big arms and all that. And I was, well, you know. Kind of a slut.  _

“Was?” Naomi questioned. 

“Hey.” 

_ You know I let Cam Paj fuck me in one of the engine rooms on the Cant? Burnt my palm on an overheated fusion drive tryin’ to brace myself while he railed me. Kid was good with his hands, back when he had two of ‘em. Shit, that’s... dark. Anyway, had to stomach a whole thirty minute conversation with McDowell with Paj’s come drippin’ down my fuckin’ jumpsuit. I kinda miss that. Being a fucking... cumdumpster.  _

Amos pressed pause to let that soak in. 

“Amos, please delete that message. I will do anything.” 

“Yeah, something tells me you’d do anything anyway, little cumdumpster,” he said with a big palm patting Holden’s upper back. Holden looked to Naomi to defend him, but she was red in the face from laughter. “Oh, it gets worse.” 

_ What was I sayin’? Right, yeah, so… probably woulda put out if you asked. We woulda been good, too. I’m kinda… like… submissive, I guess? Maybe that’s not the word. Easy? Slutty? I don’t know. I’m just like… a hole. James Hole-den. Heh. That’s stupid.  _

Amos paused it again, and as much as Holden didn’t want to hear the rest, he wished the guy would just let him get it over with. His face couldn’t get any redder, and Naomi’s hysterical laughter wasn’t the comfort he needed from her. He supposed he should be grateful to learn she wasn’t mad. A different girlfriend might have considered the message unfaithful, but he supposed he did have her permission to be attracted to him. That, and the fact that she was attracted to him, too. 

“Submissive, huh?” Amos asked. Holden prayed for the alcohol to kick in faster. 

“A little bit,” Holden lied. 

“He’d suck your cock right now if I told him to,” Naomi corrected. 

“Shit,” Amos said as he adjusted himself in his sweats, “wouldja tell him to?” 

“Maybe later.” 

Amos grumbled and pressed play. 

_ I think we’d go good together, ‘cause you’re big, y’know, and kinda mean. No, not mean. You’re a good guy. Just… I don’t know what you are. Rough around the edges, or something. Not soft like me. Well, I’m hard right now, but you know what I mean. I’d let you do whatever. I mean, whatever Naomi let me let you do. Shit. Fuck.  _

_ Shit.  _

_ Fuck. I dunno why I called. You’re probably asleep. Or, like, out getting that big dick wet. I should go to bed before I say somethin’ else stupid. Okay. Night, Amos. Love— nevermind. Night. _

“I’m officially tendering my resignation as captain of the Rocinante, effective immediately. That’s clearly the only course of action here.” 

“Calm down, drama queen,” said Naomi. 

“Hey, I got more respect for you than ever, Cap,” said Amos. “Thought you were kinda a prude before. Who’da thunk you’re a total cockslut?” 

“M’not a cockslut,” Holden pouted. 

“Yeah, Amos,” Naomi finally defended. “He’s a slut for pussy, too.” 

“Great,” Holden said. “Thanks. Can we eat?” 

Amos did his version of setting the table, which included putting a pile of plasticware and napkins at the center and sitting a takeout container in front of each of them. 

“Found this place on the lower level that sells Earth-style farm-to-table food, figured you might get a kick outta that, country boy.” 

“Farm food? On Tycho?” Naomi asked. 

“Not even close,” Amos explained, “but it’s supposed to taste like the real thing. Y’know, if you ain’t ever tasted the real thing. But, hey, it’s the thought that counts, or whatever.” 

“That’s very thoughtful,” Holden said. Maybe it was the gesture, or the fact that the tequila was definitely starting to kick in, but Holden felt his heart swell with fondness. Amos went out of his way to get food that would spark joy in him, remind him of his home. It meant more than he could say. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, okay, cumdumpster. Don’t get too excited.” Right. He was still Amos. 

The meal was something-like-lamb and something-like-potatoes. He had learned in twenty-plus years in space not to interrogate the food that was designed to look and taste like other food, but the flavor was pretty authentic to what he remembered from Earth all those years ago. He was lost in the memory of it all, scarfing the food down to satisfy some unplaceable other hunger. As they ate and drank, he went from hungry to full and from sober to tipsy to drunk to shitfaced, but was never satisfied. 

“Okay, Amos,” Naomi said when the food was almost finished. “If you could have a threesome with any two people, who would they be?” 

“Is this a trap?” Amos said through a mouthful of lamb. He looked back and forth between his two crewmates.

“Just curious,” said Naomi mischievously, sipping her second margarita in maybe two hours. She was pacing herself, something Holden had intended to do, until Amos started talking and teasing and looking the way he looked. Amos appeared to be seriously considering his answer as he chewed. 

“Okay, got it,” he said finally, like it had been a hard decision. “Bobbie and Chrissy.” 

“Chrissy. As in… Chrisjen Avasarala,” Naomi said as she digested that news. She must’ve been expecting it to be her and Holden as much as Holden had been. Holden didn’t like the mental image. Bobbie and Amos together certainly painted a pretty picture. The politician, in her elegant sari barking orders with a scowl on her face, only confused him. He stopped thinking about it. 

“Yep,” said Amos. He took a sip of his third or fourth margarita, and Holden wondered how much liquor it took to really get the mechanic drunk. It was certainly more than it took Holden. Amos had certainly downed a lot more than he had, between the cocktails and the straight tequila from the bottle, yet still seemed perfectly composed. Holden just stayed quiet and ate, unable to do much more than be entertained by the naughty conversation. 

“I don’t know if I’m disappointed or just surprised,” Naomi said, confusing Amos. 

“Why, you wanted to be on the list?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. 

“I’m not on yours,” Amos said. 

“What makes you say you’re not?” 

“Your dream threesome is the Captain and Camina Drummer,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“That’s—” she started, then thought for a second, then stopped. 

“True,” he insisted. 

“Maybe a little.” Holden didn’t say anything, but he was picturing that, too. Something told him he wouldn’t really be all that involved in the...  _ activities, _ but he wouldn’t mind watching. “Okay, do Jim.” 

“Do what with Jim?” Amos asked.  _ Kiss Jim,  _ Holden’s drunken mind supplied. He didn’t know where that came from. He hadn’t really thought about kissing Amos before, not on the lips, but now he could think of nothing else. 

“What’s Jim’s dream threesome?”  _ As if that’s not obvious. _

“Oh, easy. Me and Bobbie. And a big ol’ strap-on, not like that little thing you bought today.” Holden furrowed his brow. It definitely wasn’t his number one choice, his threesome-to-end-all-threesomes, but it was a sexy thought. Holden knew Bobbie had no interest in either of them, and he respected that. He had almost enough mental capacity to feel bad for objectifying her in his fantasies, but then he looked at Amos’s lips again, and whatever feminism he was capable of went out the window. He’d repent for it later. 

“Not me and Bobbie? Or me and you?” Naomi asked. “I’m, what, working on the ship while you’re sharing my life partner?” 

“Sure, or playin’ with Drummer,” he said with a smirk. “Holden wants to be tossed around, treated like a worthless little sex toy, don’t you, little hole?” Holden said nothing. He hadn’t really been paying attention to what Amos said. He was sipping Naomi’s margarita, which he stole when she was distracted as punishment for cutting him off, with two hands, and staring wide-eyed between the two of them, thinking about Naomi calling him her life partner. Holden liked being called that. He never really thought about it before, but it was meaningful in his intoxicated state of sentimentality. She was more than his girlfriend, more than his wife, more than his best friend. She was with him through everything— stopping the Protomolecule, saving the world, watching movies on the couch, having sex with their mechanic. His partner in life. He loved her. “‘Sides, it’s not like he’d ever share you with anybody.” 

“You might be wrong about that,” she said. 

“I’d be happy to be proven wrong,” he replied suggestively. 

“N’omi?” Holden finally spoke. 

“Yeah, baby boy?” She took the glass from his hands, and he pouted at the loss. 

“My dream threesome… is you.” He touched her on the tip of her nose, and she laughed. 

“Just me?” 

“Myup,” Holden said, an affirmative noise. “You… two times. Two you… one me… four boobs.” He held up four digits for emphasis. 

“I take mine back,” Amos said, “ditto.” 

“That’s almost sweet.” 

“N’omi?” 

“Yeah, baby boy?” 

“I got too drunk.” 

“I know, baby.” 

“I’mma be on the couch, kay?” 

“Kay,” she said. 

He got up from his chair, kissed Naomi, then turned to Amos and kissed him, too. 

“Night, N’omi. Night, Mamos.” 

He fell right asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to issue a formal apology to cameron paj for that joke


	5. slumber party

Amos wiped his lips with the back of his hand. It was more of a performative gesture than anything, something to do to acknowledge that the captain had just kissed him on the mouth. He looked at Naomi, who was neither drunk nor sober, but somewhere happily between the two. She seemed unfazed by Holden’s behavior. In fact, she had been shockingly calm all night, even when Amos played the voice message that should’ve been jarring, at least. She knew something he didn’t know. Unsurprising, but uncomfortable all the same. 

“So, N’omi,” he said, emphasizing the disyllabic mispronunciation of her name that Holden drunkenly employed. “Does the captain always act like a toddler when he gets drunk?” 

“Only when he’s going through something. I think he reverts to the last time in his life when he wasn’t stressed.” 

“What’s he goin’ through? We’ve been on shore leave for a month, I been gettin’ laid like I’m goin’ outta style, our crew hasn’t been this stress-free in what, seven years?”

“Something like that.” 

“Everything’s okay with you, couple-wise, right? Am I allowed to ask that?” 

“We’re goin’ strong, don’t worry,” she said. “And you’re allowed to ask anything.”

“Okay, cool. ‘Cause I got a lotta questions. Like, holy shit, did Cap just kiss me on the fuckin’ mouth?” She hummed an affirmative answer. 

“I think that’s what he’s working through.” 

“Oh.  _ Oh.” _

“Yeah.” 

“And you’re cool with that?” 

“Yeah, well, maybe he’s not the only one.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” he said. It sounded like it meant that Naomi was attracted to him as well as Holden was, but that couldn’t be true. She moved on without explaining. 

“Do you remember the bet we made about him? Years ago, on the Cant?” 

“What bet?” 

“Who was more likely to get in his pants? You don’t remember?”

“I do. I can’t believe you do. You were shitfaced.” 

“You won.” 

“Huh. Guess I did,” he said, like he didn’t remember it vividly. 

They had been curled up in her bed, her head on his shoulder, passing a bottle between them and trying not to spill it as they sipped horizontally. They spent a lot of time in her bed together, just sharing the space, nothing sexy or nefarious. There weren’t a lot of places to get some privacy on a fully-staffed ship. She was lucky her status as chief engineer afforded her a single-occupancy hole, while Amos shared a bunk-bed with another mechanic in a room that housed four. The bed was far too small for both her length and his width, but they made it work, snuggling together closer than Amos had ever been with another person he wasn’t inside. 

They had made a considerable dent into a bottle of shitty booze that desperately needed to be cut with a mixer but wasn’t, and were playing marry-fuck-kill with members of the Cant’s crew. They had bickered amicably back and forth about whether choosing ‘marry’ meant they could fuck all the time, instead of ‘fuck’ which meant just once, or if it meant they had to be sexlessly wed. Naomi had insisted on the latter, so Holden was a ‘fuck’ in her book. He was certainly not marriage material. (A lot had changed.) Contrarily, Amos saw no logical reason to legally tie onesself to a person other than a constant, reliable source of decent sex, so he threw Holden in the ‘marry’ column. That got them talking about the grumbling caffeine-addict with the great ass, and a stupid, drunken bet was made. He’d never forgotten it. 

“You never came to collect,” Naomi said, snapping him out of his nostalgic haze.

“Things changed.” Amos didn’t know if he meant that things had changed between Naomi and Holden or that things had changed between Naomi and himself. Both were true. “Besides, you and I both know you ain’t some trophy. If I get to touch you, it ain’t gonna be ‘cause I won some decade-old bet you made when you were too wrecked to know what you were sayin’. You want somethin’ from me, I’m down. But you gotta ask. You know I ain’t so good at reading signals.” 

“Then let me make it clear. Jim and I want to have a threesome with you.” Amos was surprised by the bluntness of the statement, but not by its contents. 

“Yeah, I got that part. Cap’s got a little crush. I’m game.” 

“You make it sound like it’s all for him.” 

“Ain’t it?” 

“Nope,” she said, stood from her chair, and headed toward the bedroom. Amos didn’t think that was a cue to follow her, but it didn’t seem like the end of the conversation, either. He sat and waited for an instruction. “You coming?” she asked from the doorway. Well, that was that. 

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of them. They could’ve isolated themselves at either edge of the mattress and slept comfortably without ever encroaching on the other’s territory. Naomi seemed to have other plans. 

As she burrowed into his side, nuzzling her cheek against his pec until she seemed settled and comfortable with his arm around her, the sense memories from their sleepovers on the Cant came rushing in. It was one of those layered kinds of feelings— a feeling that felt like one thing but was another, and also another and another and another, all at the same time. Whatever paltry, malfunctioning systems in Amos’s brain were responsible for emotions got overwhelmed by all of the signals going off at once. On one level, the easy-to-handle level, he was comfortable. He was under a nice, warm comforter in a nice, warm bed. That was a luxury a guy that grew up like he did could never tire of being able to afford. On top of that, there was a nice, warm body tucked under his arm, soft skin and soft curves pressed up against his side. Cozy.

But with the comfort of a warm body in his bed came another, just slightly more complicated layer. Holden, or someone equally inclined to wax poetic, might’ve called the feeling  _ lust. _ It was a biblical way of putting it, a word that carried the kind of gravitas that Holden found dignified, or something. Amos would call it  _ horniness. _ Either way, it was a familiar feeling that he knew how to handle. What made it a little complicated, he supposed, was that it was Naomi. Naomi, who was his sister, and his best friend, and sometimes kind of his mom, or owner, or keeper, or person, or whatever you call the human that holds the end of a dog’s leash. He liked  _ person. _ Naomi was his person. Which made it a little complicated, the way his dick got hard when he thought about her boobs. 

Except, there was another  _ very _ complicated layer, which was that maybe he had feelings for her. He really didn’t know what it meant to have feelings for a person, but he figured if he ever did that, it would be for Naomi. And maybe Holden, a little bit. It was very, very complicated.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” Naomi pointed out, pulling his attention from his efforts to will his boner to go away. 

“Huh. Didn’t know I had one of those,” he answered. He figured it was a better response than  _ it’s probably working overtime sending all the blood to my dick _ , which was his first thought. 

“I missed this. You and me,” she mused. 

“I been here the whole time.” 

“Yeah, but maybe I haven’t.” He sat with that in silence. She was right, in a way, but she didn’t deserve to feel bad about it. Shit happened, and babysitting Amos wasn’t a priority. He didn’t hold a grudge against her, probably couldn’t if he tried. He changed the subject. 

“You said I could ask you anything, right?” 

“Sure.” 

“This threesome… how’s it gonna go?” he asked. She looked like she was expecting something else, but Amos didn’t know what it would’ve been.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you taking his ass and I’m takin’ his mouth? Or do I get to finally be inside you?” She laughed, which was a good sign. Amos didn’t always know when he was allowed to be crass and when he was supposed to be  _ respectful.  _ He always respected Naomi more than anyone. He didn’t think wanting to put his dick in her made that any less true. But sometimes he was supposed to be quiet about that, and he wasn’t so good at knowing when. 

“Are those my only two options?” she asked. 

“I got lotsa ideas.” 

“Then maybe we’d have to do it more than once,” she said, like that was a casual thing to say. 

“Really? Like, a regular thing?” 

“If you’re open to that.”

“Well shit, Boss.”

“Is that a yes? You can take time to think about it.” 

“Been thinkin’ about it for ten years. It’s a yes.” 

“Cool. So tell me more about these  _ ideas _ you have.” 

He learned that she objected to double penetration, which was expected, but was surprisingly down to suck Holden’s cock while Amos fucked her, and even more surprisingly, vice versa. He also learned she was very enthusiastic about Holden licking her while Amos fucked him, which Amos was plenty excited about, though he preferred the image of  _ himself _ licking her while Holden fucked  _ him.  _ Luckily, Naomi was on board with that, too. He learned that she wasn’t particularly inclined to watch him and Holden go at it, though that was more than fine with Amos, who didn’t see a point in having Naomi in the room if he didn’t get the privilege of touching her. 

“What about just you and me?” he asked, then immediately regretted it. It took a lot more than a couple of margaritas to actually get Amos drunk, but apparently the alcohol had affected him just enough to get him asking dangerous questions. He was being greedy. Holden and Naomi were looking for a fun little thing to spice up their sex life. He should be grateful. 

“Jim’s official stance is that if you and I ever fuck, we have to let him watch, but things might have changed a little since then.” 

“Wait, you’ve talked about it?” 

“He was very drunk, but yes, there was a... discussion.” 

“Well, shit.” 

“So you’ve said.”

“Don’t really know what else there is to say to that. I been thinkin’ you weren’t all that interested in me. But now apparently you’re havin’ fancy little  _ discussions _ with your boyfriend about letting me fuck you.” 

“I’m not  _ letting _ you do anything, Amos. I want this, same as you, same as Jim.” 

“Well…” he tried to think of something else to say, but couldn’t. “Shit.” Her laugh shook her whole body and his with it, and he wanted to kiss her, but didn’t know if that would go over well. 

“We want you to be an equal partner in this. You’re not just a toy we want to play with.” 

“Right, that’s Holden’s job.” She laughed again. He really, really liked making her laugh. He’d forgotten that. 

“You want him, too, right?” she said, suddenly seeming a little less sure of everything. “‘Cause this can’t just be you and me finding an excuse to finally go to town on each other. He really likes you. It doesn’t work if it’s not a complete triangle.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“You know, I’m into you, you’re into me, he’s into you, you’re into him, I’m into him—” 

“Got it. Got it. Yeah, I’m into him. Still havin’ trouble wrappin’ my brain around the ‘you’re into me’ part, though.” 

Naomi thought for a second, and then did something unthinkable. She swung one leg over Amos’s body, and settled on all fours with a knee on either side of his torso and a hand on either side of his head. Tentatively, he splayed a palm on each of her hips to steady her, and also just to feel her under his hands. When her head dipped down to kiss him, though it pained him to do so, he dodged her advances. 

The look she gave him was meaningful in some way that he couldn’t read. Maybe it was expectation, or disappointment, or confusion, or longing. Whatever it was, it was one of those capital-L Looks that he was supposed to understand, and he wanted to kiss it away. 

“How drunk are you?” he asked instead. 

“Not at all.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“You want me to take a sobriety pill? I had two drinks in two hours. That’s like, textbook responsible drinking.” 

“I just don’t want to be a drunken mistake,” he said quietly. Naomi sighed and moved back to her place under his arm. 

“Do you remember when we used to do this on the Cant? On my shitty little mattress with my legs all curled up into you? Room was probably designed by some Earther who didn’t think a tall, skinny Belter could be smart enough to make chief engineer.”

“You showed them.” 

“I showed everyone,” she smiled. “And all I got for it was a too-small bed in a cheap old ice hauler that would’ve offed itself if you and I weren’t playing whack-a-mole with the system outages. But that’s beside the point.” 

“Is the point how badass you are? ‘Cause I been known.” 

“Not quite. The point is, we go back, you and me. We were a team way before any of this. Back when James Holden was just a pretty asshole with a pretty ass. You’re not some drunken mistake. You’re my best friend.” 

“I am?” 

“That’s surprising to you?” 

“I don’t know. Thought I was more like… your pet dog.” 

“No,  _ that’s _ Jim’s job,” she said with a laugh. “You’re my big brother.” 

“Hm,” vocalized Amos, a contented little noise. She nuzzled against him. 

“...But I’d do ya if you let me.” 

He kissed her. He leaned into her, tilted her head up toward himself, and kissed her with all the passion he knew how to muster. She resumed her position on her hands and knees above him and deepened the kiss as his hands slid down her sides. He got lost in the kissing.  


He fussed with the bottom hem of her tee shirt as they kissed, idly rolling the fabric between his forefinger and thumb.

“You know, you and Jim both do that,” she suddenly. 

“Do what?” 

“Fidget with my shirt like that, when what you really want to do is take it off.” 

_ “Can _ I take it off?” 

“Give it a try,” she whispered in his ear. “Find out.” 

“Am I gonna get slapped?” 

“We’ll see.” She kissed his jaw, and down his neck. 

“Is your boyfriend gonna try and beat me up in the morning?” 

“That would be more laughable than threatening, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yeah. But I kinda want him in a good mood,” he said. She seemed to pick up on the insinuation. 

“Then let me make it easy for you,” she said, and pulled the garment off her torso in one swift motion. 

His first thought was that they were the best tits he’d ever seen. Not the biggest, certainly— Belters typically were smaller-breasted than Earthers for the same reasons they had longer bodies and less meat on their bones. Boobs are essentially nothing more than body fat and gravity, two things that were scarce in the Belt. But Naomi’s little tits were perky and downright biteable, and perfect for another, less definable reason. They belonged to Naomi fucking Nagata, the forbidden love of his life. And they were maybe not so forbidden anymore. 

His second thought was the thought he vocalized. 

“Are those hickeys?” She looked down, like she was just remembering they were there. His hands were cupping her tits, his thumbs rubbing circles into the reddish discolorations on her otherwise flawless skin. They were still perfect, her nipples stiffening in the cool air. He tried to maintain eye contact with her, but gave up quickly. He had her pretty face memorized. He wanted to study the soft swell of her breasts until it was etched behind his eyelids, too. 

“Heh, yeah. He wanted it to be very clear to you who they belong to.”

“Possessive.” 

“Yeah, me too. You should see his pretty pale ass. Fucking polka-dotted.” 

“Looking forward to it.” 

They didn’t fool around much, which was in line with Amos’s expectations. She wasn’t going to put out without Holden’s presence or permission. He was okay with that. His neglected erection had some complaints, but he was okay with it. She didn’t put her shirt back on, just laid back down next to him with her tits out. That, he was more than okay with. At some point while they kissed, Amos’s shirt had been discarded, too, and the feeling of her skin against his was electrifying. She didn’t seem to have a problem with him staring too much, and he was allowed to kiss her whenever he felt compelled to, which was often. It was good. It felt like what peace was supposed to feel like. 

“So…” Naomi started. “Bobbie and Avasarala, huh?” Amos smiled. 

“I like powerful women.” 

“What’s the deal with you boys and Bobbie Draper?” Naomi asked. He didn’t really understand the question.

“She’s very hot.” 

“No disagreement here, but we meet a lot of very hot women. Lucia Merton is very hot. Clarissa Mao is very hot. Camina Drummer is very hot.” 

“Say more about that one,” he said, a playful accusation in his voice. The room was too dim to see her blush, but he imagined she did.

“Oh, hush. I’m just saying, all three of you have this very specific desire to be pegged by Bobbie Draper, and I want to know what it’s about. I mean, I get Alex’s whole Martian patriotism thing. What’s your excuse, tumang?” 

“Same reason Holden and I both fuss with your shirt instead of pullin’ it off.” 

“And what’s that?” she asked. 

“Submissive.” She seemed to be thinking about that. 

“I never pegged you for submissive,” she eventually said. 

“You can peg me for anything, any time, any place.” 

“Good to know.” 

They were silent for a while, and he was pretty sure she had fallen asleep. He didn’t think he’d sleep a wink that night, her half-naked body still causing a shortness in his breath after what must’ve been at least an hour. He turned the lamp off reluctantly, not wanting to give up the sight of her. 

“Night, Amos,” she said. The sound was muffled against his pec.

“Night, Boss.” 

“You know you could probably start calling me Naomi.”

“Sure, Boss.” 


	6. saturdays are for the boys

Holden woke up to the sound of a long, pained groan, which he then realized was coming from his own vocal chords. He was pressed against something that was too big and too hard to be Naomi, which either made it Amos or some kind of hairless bear. The odds, and the tattoos, said it was probably Amos. His head hurt. 

“The first person to bring me a hangover relief pill and a pitcher of water gets to put whatever body part they want in my mouth as soon as it kicks in,” were the first words to leave his mouth. It wasn’t exactly the most elegant solution to his hangover, but it got Amos’s attention, and probably meant he got to suck some dick, so it worked as intended. 

“Go for it, big guy,” he heard Naomi say, and then Amos was leaving the room. 

“How did I get here?” he asked her once she came into view. 

“Neither of us have any idea,” she answered. “You were on the couch when we fell asleep.” 

“You’re not wearing a shirt.” 

“You’re not wearing any clothes,” she replied instead of an explanation for her shirtlessness. He looked down. He didn’t remember that detail, either. 

“Interesting. Did you have sex with Amos?” 

“No, baby. We made out, though.” 

“Cool,” he said. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but it wasn’t angry or possessive. Maybe a little jealous, but not in any way that couldn’t be fixed by making out with Amos for a little while. 

“Are you mad about that?” she asked. He shook his head. 

“Only if you want to have some more fake angry sex.” 

“Nah, you’re no good at pretending to be mad at me.” 

“Sorry I love you too much.” 

“You’re forgiven,” she joked. He closed the space between them and cuddled up to her. “Is everything okay with you, Jim?”

“Besides the hangover, I think so. Why do you ask?” 

“That’s kind of what I’m worried about. You never get that drunk. I have to peer-pressure you to get tipsy with me most of the time. Now you’re shitfaced twice in one week? Something’s up.” 

“Is this an intervention?” 

“No, I hardly think two wild nights counts as a drinking problem. But if there’s some other problem you’re drinking to avoid, I’d like to be in the loop about it.” 

She had a point that his behavior was uncharacteristic. Usually, Naomi was the one who got wild when they drank, and even that only happened on occasion. Holden preferred to sit comfortably on the sidelines, sipping at his beer or rice wine and watching Naomi dance sexily up on Amos or Drummer. (In hindsight, perhaps it was unsurprising that he was so enthused about the whole polyamory thing.) Booze made him stupid, and apparently horny, and he preferred to have more control than that. 

He didn’t think his two recent incidents of excessive drinking were evidence of any kind of problem, though. If anything, they were evidence that things were going a little too smoothly for his comfort level. Holden had become accustomed to a certain level of disaster, a baseline of worry that something bad is going to happen that he’ll be responsible to fix, or at least address. Drinking only amplified that worry, added the burdensome paranoia that something would go wrong and he’d be too drunk to do anything about it. 

But lately, things were really, really, unrealistically good. Sure, the world was fucked on a whole bunch of levels, as always, but there were no pressing matters for the crew to deal with, and they were all together for an extended period of time on something like a vacation, while the Rocinante got repaired by a team of proficient individuals that didn’t include them. Holden could get plastered, and the system would keep revolving around the sun without him.

When Holden explained that to Naomi, she seemed skeptical about it. 

“So you’re not nervous about sex with Amos?” 

“Oh, I’m definitely nervous about sex with Amos. But I’m also really fucking excited about sex with Amos. I’m happy about this.” 

“Me, too,” she said. “Okay. I’m gonna believe you, ‘cause you never lie to me, and this would be a really weird reason to start. But you gotta promise to tell me if there’s something up, okay? This thing isn’t gonna work if we’re not communicating about it.” 

“I promise.” 

“Also, you know Amos is gonna try to put, like, his armpit in your mouth, right?”

“Yeah, didn’t really think that one through.” 

Amos returned with a little gold packet of pills, a glass, and a large jug of water. 

“Drink up, little hole,” he said. Holden did not appreciate the new nickname, but didn’t imagine it was going away any time soon. He figured fighting it might make it permanent. “I gotta decide what I’m putting in that pretty mouth first.” Naomi grimaced, then looked at the clock. 

“Shit, I gotta get going. I’m supposed to go to the salon with Clare and Bobbie in an hour, preferably not smelling like Amos.” 

“A Belter, an Earther, and a Martian walk into a salon…” Amos joked. 

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned. 

“There’s gotta be something ironic about three of the most badass women in the entire fucking Solar system getting little flowers painted on their toenails, right?” Holden said. 

“Why shouldn’t  _ the _ three most badass women in the entire fucking Solar system get to be pampered for a couple of hours before we go back to kicking ass?”

“Fair,” Holden resigned. 

“It’ll be nice to have some girl time. Been cooped up with big sweaty boys for too long.” 

“I wouldn’t call Holden, ‘big,’” quipped Amos. Holden elbowed him. “Plenty sweaty, though.”

“Big where it counts,” Naomi defended. Holden blushed and hid his naked body under the covers. “You two could use some alone time to talk, anyway.” 

“I don’t know how much talking will get done,” Holden said. When she raised her eyebrows at him, he added: “I mean… unless you don’t…” 

“You have my permission for anything, as long as you tell me about it later. In detail.” 

“Deal,” Amos said for him. “Go get your toes painted on. Cap made me a promise and I’m not letting him back out of it.” 

Holden blew out a frustrated breath. Naomi kissed Amos and then him. Then, she shimmied teasingly out of what little clothing still adorned her lower half, tossed her panties at Amos, and disappeared into the bathroom with a wink. 

“She’s so hot,” said Amos, pressing the lacy pink garment to his own face, then throwing it at Holden.   


“Yeah," Holden agreed, throwing the panties toward the laundry hamper and missing tragically. Amos appeared slighted by that, like he had wanted them back. Holden felt no need to longingly sniff the discarded panties of someone whose pussy he was permitted to bury his face in whenever he wanted, but he supposed Amos hadn't been afforded that luxury quite yet.   


“You feelin’ better?” 

“Are you concerned, or do you just want to put your dick in my mouth?”

“Can’t be both?” 

Holden just grunted his reply. He ducked the rest of the way under the covers to shield himself from the aggravating light, and a little bit to hide from Amos. He didn’t know where to go from there, except straight to sex that he didn’t know if he was ready for. He figured he needed there to be a conversation first, but he didn’t know how to have that with Amos. The much-needed buffer that was Naomi had left, and would surely be gone until at least dinnertime. 

“How ‘bout I go pick us up a greasy breakfast, huh?” offered Amos, a big hand rubbing his back through the blanket. “Those pills only do so much, and I’m sure you could use all the help you can get.” 

“Burgers?” came Holden’s muffled voice from under his blanket fort. He was glad Amos couldn’t see the confusion and panic on his face through the comforter. Even his sober brain didn’t know how to deal with Amos being thoughtful and nurturing. 

“Burgers for breakfast, sure. I’m on it.”

Holden went back to sleep. 

* * *

He woke up to the smell of hot coffee and greasy fries, and was feeling a lot better already. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the shower was off and Naomi was gone. 

“We doin’ breakfast in bed or are you gonna get that pretty ass up?” Amos asked. Holden was inclined to pick the first option, but a greasy, crummy mattress was not what he imagined Naomi was looking forward to coming home to. 

“You wanna hand me some clothes to cover this pretty ass?” Holden asked. 

“Not particularly,” Amos leered. He didn’t take those wide eyes off Holden as he changed into new boxer briefs and probably-clean day clothes. Holden didn’t mind the attention. 

They sat on the couch to eat lunch. Amos insisted that fast food burgers and fries were made to be eaten in front of a screen, but the screen wasn’t playing anything, and Holden had his suspicions that Amos just didn’t want to clear up the mess on the dining table they’d abandoned there the night before. But as they sat and ate and spoke, Amos kept touching Holden— clapping his hand on his shoulder or thigh, nudging him with his elbow as he laughed, moving a little closer every chance he got until they were pressed together side-to-side— and then Holden suspected they were on the couch because it afforded them more proximity to one another. He liked that explanation better. Amos wanted to be close to him. 

“Relax, little pill bug,” Amos said at one point, his hand on the back of Holden’s shoulder. Holden hadn’t realized he was so tense, but being cognizant of it only made it worse. 

“Pill bug?” Holden asked between bites of his breakfast, which had become lunch by the time Amos arrived back at their room. The hot little morsels they called fries, made from synthetic vegetable starch, proved that just about anything could taste delicious when twice-fried in oil, and his hungover body was eternally grateful. 

“Y’know, those little crawlers that curl up when you touch ‘em?” 

“Have I been doing that?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Sorry,” was all he could say. They ate in silence for a little longer than what was comfortable for Holden. He wondered if Amos felt the awkwardness of it. He didn’t appear to. He was chowing absently on his burger, with little regard for the condiments slopping from the back of the bun. Holden didn’t know he was staring at the big guy until Amos started staring back. 

“Are you scared of me?” Amos asked, chopping through the silence like with a machete. That was a loaded question. 

“What? No,” Holden said, which might not have been the whole truth. He wasn’t so much scared of Amos as he was scared of ruining things with Amos. He wondered if that counted. 

“You gotta know I’m not gonna hurt you. I mean, not unless you ask nice.” 

“I know,” Holden said, which was fully true. He wasn’t afraid of Amos fucking him too hard. He was excited for Amos to fuck him just hard enough. 

“So what, then?” 

“What, what?” 

“Well, for starters, I never seen you as plastered as you got last night. Suddenly Mr. Responsible can’t pronounce my fuckin’ name.” Holden didn’t have any memory of that, which wasn’t surprising. 

“I was a little nervous.” Amos scoffed. 

“A little nervous is a glass of wine to get you loose. Maybe a shot. You drank… well shit, Cap, I lost track.”

“Yeah, me too,” he admitted. 

“And it’s not like you’re some lightweight. That shit was intentional.”

“Maybe.” He wouldn’t call it intentional, per se, but maybe subconsciously so. 

“That’s not ‘a little nervous.’ That’s scared fuckin’ shitless.” 

“Maybe,” he said again. Amos looked frustrated by that, and he had the right to be. 

There was another weighty silence. Amos sighed deeply and then broke it. 

“Look, you know I’m no good at the talking or feeling or whatever, but I’m all ears if you got somethin’ to say,” he offered. Then, when Holden didn’t immediately reply, he added: “and it’s pretty plain to see you got somethin’ to say.” 

“You wouldn’t rather just skip to the sex part?” Holden asked. 

“Hell, yeah, I’d rather that. But I’m also not inclined to be some dumbass decision you made because your little dildo ain’t big enough for your greedy hole, or because Naomi asked you nicely to spice up whatever vanilla sex you been havin’. So if we gotta talk first, let’s talk.” 

“Wouldn’t call it vanilla,” he defended, not really knowing what to say to the rest of that. Holden knew he should’ve reassured him that it wouldn’t be some dumbass mistake, but he didn’t know if he was fully convinced that was true. 

“Trust me, I’m lookin’ forward to learning what your idea of kinky looks like. After you tell me what the fuck you’re so chickenshit about.” 

“It’s not… we’re not…” he started, then fizzled out. Amos was looking at him expectantly. “Look, you’re not a… dildo.” 

“Well, boy. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he snarked. 

“This isn’t easy to say.” 

“Apparently not,” said Amos, munching down on a fry. Holden took a deep breath. 

“You have feelings for Naomi, right?” Holden asked. Amos furrowed his brow. 

“Is that what this is about? You’re jealous I played with your girlfriend’s tits a little?” 

“No.” 

“Good, ‘cause that would be stupid.” 

“Could you answer the question?” 

“Do I got feelings for Naomi? Yeah, guess so.” 

“You guess so,” Holden repeated back. “Well, the thing is… I think maybe I have those feelings for.... you.” Amos’s blank expression didn’t change. 

“I know,” he said, like it was obvious. Maybe it had been. 

“You know?” 

“Yeah. You ain’t really been low-key about it,” he said, then emphasized his nonchalance with a big final bite from his burger. 

“And what do you think about that?” Holden made the mistake of asking while Amos was still chewing. He barely made an effort to swallow before speaking again. 

“Y’know… same,” he shrugged. He sipped the last drops of his soda through the straw until a gurgling noise signaled its emptiness, then took Holden’s untouched cola from the coffee table and started on that. Holden didn’t complain. He waited for a clarification that didn’t come. 

“Same?” he eventually prompted. 

“Like, me too.”  _ Oh. _ “What’s the problem?” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Okay, so now you do.” He plucked a fry from Holden’s tray. No longer hungry, Holden offered the rest of his meal to Amos with a silent shove of the tray in his direction, which was happily accepted. Amos dug into the second half of Holden’s burger with the same unaffected attitude as always. 

“Okay,” is all Holden said.

“So what’s the problem?” Amos asked. 

“I guess there isn’t one.” 

“Okay.”

When Amos finished eating, he cleared the waste from their meal, and from the meal before that, into the recycler. When he returned, he laid horizontally on the couch with his head in Holden’s lap. Holden didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t object to the situation, so he let himself relax, idly scratching the top of Amos’s head. 

“Naomi has really great tits,” Amos said, for no apparent reason, after a prolonged silence. 

“Yeah, she does,” Holden replied reluctantly. “Is there, uh, any particular reason you bring that up?” 

“Nah, just trying to make conversation.” 

“Interesting approach.” 

“Figured I’d lead with what we got in common.” 

“Is Naomi really the only thing we have in common?” Amos considered that for a second. 

“We’re both hot.” 

“Sure,” Holden said. “We’re both from Earth.” 

“That doesn’t mean much.” 

“But ‘we’re both hot,’ that’s a meaningful shared experience?” 

“Maybe not.” 

There was silence again for a little while. Holden’s hand stalled its scratching. 

“We’re friends, right?” he asked. “Like, we like each other?” 

“I like you plenty, do you like me?” 

“Yeah, I like you a lot,” Holden said. Amos gave a little smile that quickly faded back to the same old blank expression. 

“So we’re friends,” decided Amos. 

“Friends who don’t have anything to talk about but Naomi’s tits.” 

“They’re good tits.” Holden hummed his agreement. 

“What did you two talk about last night?” he asked.   


“We mostly made out," Amos answered. Holden suspected that wasn't quite true, but he figured their conversations didn't start becoming any of his business just because they were all going to sleep together. He and Naomi still had privacy, so Naomi and Amos still had privacy. If Amos and Holden ever eventually found something to talk about together, that could be private, too. It was starting to feel like a big 'if.'  


“Right,” Holden said, accepting the lie. If it mattered, he trusted Naomi to tell him.   


“You’re really overthinking this, aren’t you?” Amos asked.   


“Yup.” 

“Would it make you feel better if we skipped the talking part and I just put my dick in your face?” Holden actually considered it. It probably would, if he was being honest. He didn’t know how to navigate this new, exciting and terrifying aspect of his relationship with Amos, but he knew how to suck a dick. “I was kidding, shit. You’re thinking about it?”

“Made you a promise, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but I was just gonna make you suck on my toes.” 

“Could do that, too,” Holden said with a shrug. 

“Weirdo," Amos laughed.   


“So that’s a ‘no’ on the blowjob?” Holden asked after a beat. Amos took longer to think through his answer than Holden expected. 

“Do you wanna suck my cock or do you just not know how else to fill the time until Naomi comes back?”

“Can’t be both?” he asked, parroting Amos’s earlier question. 

“Don’t know how good I feel about foolin’ around with a guy who apparently doesn’t enjoy my company all that much.” 

“Don’t you pay for anonymous sex? Like, regularly?” Holden asked. Amos just looked at him. It had been the wrong thing to say. “I enjoy your company, Amos. You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” Amos got up from his lying position and sat next to Holden, throwing his arm around the captain’s shoulders and pulling him close. It was a comforting hold. He leaned into it. 

“So, maybe we don’t have a lot in common. You think Naomi’s got anything in common with Peaches and Bobbie? Or, shit, me?"

"Guess not," he answered. Naomi and Amos couldn't be any more different. He supposed that's what made them work together. When he considered it, he realized he didn't have much in common with Naomi, either. They shared a value system, for the most part, at least when it counted. But even those foundational values were informed by vastly different opinions and lived experiences. They were opposites in more ways than they were the same. They were soulmates, anyway. 

"We don’t need to have the same favorite fucking color to like each other," Amos said. "I like you. You’re kinda a little bitch sometimes, but I like you.” 

“I like you, too,” Holden said softly, ignoring the slight. 

“Good. Besides, it’s good we’re not too similar. Two’a’you fucking each other would be too much ego at one time. Universe might explode.” 

“Yeah, well… two Amoses fucking each other would be… um…” he tried to think of something equally insulting, but the mental picture was distracting. “Hot, probably.” Amos laughed.   


"Yeah," Amos said. He seemed to be picturing it, too, or something equally sexy. Holden snapped him out of it with a question.

"What is your favorite color?" he asked. He understood that the whole point of what Amos had just said was that it didn't matter, but he found himself wanting to know. 

"Green. Yours?"

"Same, green," he said. Amos hummed.

"So, something in common."

Amos looked meaningfully, expectantly at Holden. The mechanic’s gaze fell to the captain’s lips and flitted back up to his eyes. It wasn’t a subtle hint. Holden’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in question, and then, as if to answer, Amos kissed him. 


	7. splooge and other thangs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I ate too much of an edible on Monday and basically lost the whole week. Wish I was kidding.

When Holden and Amos kissed for the first time, it wasn’t some miraculous moment where soulmates came home to one another. It wasn’t heavy or loaded, not something that had been building for years that they were finally allowed to have. There was no poetry about the way Amos cradled Holden’s jaw in his big, strong hand, no choreography to the dance of their lips moving against each other. It was sloppy, and filthy, and hungry, and wet. It was perfect, anyway.

“Okay, yeah. I really like your company,” Holden said. Amos laughed and pulled Holden into his lap. The hand that wasn’t pressed against his face rested on his lower back. 

Amos didn’t instigate anything other than more kissing. He suspected Holden was looking to him to call the shots, but he didn’t want to push it. He’d give Holden everything he asked for, but he’d have to ask. Amos wasn’t about to risk a good thing because he wasn’t so great at reading signals. 

Holden played with the neck hem of Amos’s shirt, just like Naomi said he would. It was cute. 

“You want me to take it off?” Amos asked. Holden only nodded. Amos pulled the tee off from the back of the neck, letting it fly across the room into oblivion. Holden’s breath hitched as Amos’s muscled torso was exposed to him. Amos couldn’t tell if he was excited or scared. 

Holden trailed his kisses down Amos’s neck and over his clavicle and pecs, his hands moving over his scarred and tatted abdomen. There was a reverence about the way he moved that Amos wasn’t accustomed to, like he was savoring the experience. If he didn’t know better, Amos would call it worshipful. 

“You gonna leave hickeys all over my tits, too?” Amos asked. Holden blushed. 

“Would you like me to?” 

“How else would people know who I belong to?” Holden just hummed happily and kissed a hickey into the curve of Amos’s neck, which he’d probably insist on covering later. Amos planned to wear it like a trophy. He dared to move his hand from Holden’s lower back to his ass. 

They just kissed for a long time. Amos didn’t remember the last time he’d just-kissed someone for so long, save for Naomi the night before. He didn’t know if there had been a time in his life when kissing wasn’t just a precursor to sex. But with Holden and Naomi, it was different. It was good in itself. Fun, even.

Holden kept giggling against his mouth. 

“Somethin’ funny?” Amos asked, as if he wasn’t laughing a little, too.

“I keep thinking about… when we first got the Roci. I was pretty sure you wanted to kill me.” 

“I’m not sure I didn’t,” said Amos. Holden laughed at that. 

“Yeah, well. Now we’re making out. S’funny.”

“Hm. Yeah.” 

They kept kissing, and laughing, and talking every once in a while. Amos’s hand didn’t move from Holden’s ass, didn’t seek shelter under his waistband. Holden’s shirt came off, too, somewhere along the line, but neither of them removed their pants. Amos stopped waiting for Holden to ask for something else, and started just enjoying the kissing for what it was. He felt safe. 

“We doin’ this, Cap?” Amos asked after a while. He’d have been happy to keep kissing, but they were both hard, and Amos was only so patient. Holden looked at the mark he had made on Amos’s neck, then up into his eyes. 

“Yes,” is all Holden said. That didn’t really tell him what he needed to know. 

“How’s this gonna go?” he prompted. Holden squinted, his mouth shrinking to the side of his face. 

“No fucking clue, honestly,” Holden said. It sounded more like a question than an answer. Amos could feel the tension in his shoulders as he curled in on himself again. He resolved to stop asking questions. 

“Okay, okay,” Amos said. Holden obviously needed him to call the shots. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna strip for me and get on all fours in bed, or I’m gonna rip your clothes off, pick you up, and carry you there.” 

Holden just blinked up at him, and Amos didn’t know if he was hesitating or trying to call his bluff. Either way, Amos slung him over his shoulder like a garbage bag, carried him through the doorway to the bedroom, and threw him on the bed on his back. 

“You thought I was kidding?” Amos asked his surprised face. 

“Didn’t rip my clothes off,” Holden challenged. Amos winked and hooked his fingers into Holden’s waistband, tugging off his sweats and boxers in one motion. 

“Fuck, Cap. Even prettier up close. Hold these for me,” Amos said, and pushed Holden’s knees up to his chest. Holden obeyed immediately, his hands digging into the meat of his own thighs. It wasn’t the sexiest position, visually, but it was vulnerable, and a little bit degrading, and Amos had a strong suspicion that Holden wanted it that way. The shortness of his breath was evidence enough. 

Amos graced his fingertips over the hickeys on the captain’s thighs and ass. If they were meant to be any kind of deterrent— a sign that said ‘private property, keep out’ —they were entirely ineffective. If they were meant to offer an enticing reminder of Naomi every time he looked at them, they were very successful, and Amos was grateful for them. “You like being all marked up?” 

Holden just nodded. When Amos gave a hard swat, right across a couple of Naomi’s bruises, he vocalized the affirmation. 

“Yes,” Holden said, “I like being all marked up.” Amos gave a satisfied smirk and sucked his own mark into Holden’s thigh, bigger and bolder than any of Naomi’s. 

“Good boy,” cooed Amos, then rewarded the obedient captain by taking him deep into his mouth. 

Holden gave a deep, animal moan as the head of his cock pressed against the back of Amos’s throat. Amos didn’t gag. He let Holden hook his legs over his shoulders and buck up into his mouth, and he didn’t gag. He let Holden’s hand dig into his cropped hair and push him down further, and he didn’t gag.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” said Holden. Amos didn’t really know what to say to that. ‘Thank you’ felt weird, so he said nothing. His mouth was occupied, anyways. He hummed, which Holden seemed to appreciate, then pulled his own pants and ankles down under his balls to jerk himself to full hardness. 

“Fuck, Amos,” moaned Holden, a desperate, broken sound. Amos may have been shit at reading emotional signals, but he knew how to tell when a guy was going to come down his throat. He pulled off and squeezed under the crown of Holden’s cock to delay his climax, then squeezed himself to keep from coming at the wrecked sight of it. He wanted to feel Holden’s body tighten around his cock when he was finally allowed to come, and make a mess inside of Holden at the same time. 

“Not quite done with you yet, baby boy,” Amos said. “Hands and knees.” 

Holden hesitated to follow the instruction. He was biting his lip and looking up at Amos like something was wrong, but he didn’t say what he was thinking. 

“You good?” Amos asked. He let himself rub his thumb over Holden’s hole, just to say ‘I want this,’ but didn’t push anything. Holden’s eyes fell shut. He didn’t protest the touch, but he didn’t seem sure about it, either. 

“Maybe we should wait,” he eventually said. Amos couldn’t imagine why.

“Oh. Okay,” is all he had to offer in reply. He pulled his hand away. He didn’t understand the hesitation, but he wasn’t about to try and talk Holden into anything, though the arguments came rushing to the tip of his tongue. He swallowed them. Holden was more delicate than Naomi. He’d have to proceed with caution. 

_ “Is _ it okay?” Holden asked, as if Amos could possibly say no. 

“Yeah, Captain,” he shrugged. “Probably gonna go to the head for a little while, though. Y’know.” He looked down at his erection. Holden seemed to get the hint. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

“Uh, yeah. I kinda have to.” He jerked himself a little for emphasis, and also because he really needed to be touched. He could feel himself becoming addicted to the taste of Holden’s precum at the back of his throat, and he was only capable of so much patience. He’d gone to sleep hard and untouched the night before, and wasn’t super inclined to make a streak out of it. 

“No, I mean…” he reached for Amos’s cock. “You don’t have to,” he insisted as he moved his fist over the length. Confused, but not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Amos gripped Holden’s hand firmly in his own and fucked the tight opening of their fists, showing the captain just how he needed it. It wasn’t as good as Holden’s asshole would’ve been, but it was better than jerking himself off in the bathroom of his hotel room. 

He watched Holden as Holden watched him, eyes wide and doe-like, mouth hanging open in something that resembled hunger. “Get on your back,” Holden commanded. When Amos raised his eyebrows in surprise, he added a humble “...please.” 

Confused as he was by the apparent role reversal, Amos did as he was told, situating himself on his back with his head in Naomi’s silk pillow and his cock weeping at attention. 

Holden wasn’t as practiced a cocksucker as Amos was, of course, but he was desperately eager, and Amos didn’t mind for a second the sound of his captain choking on him. He miraculously resisted the temptation to buck up into his throat until his eyes watered and he coughed up come. What Holden couldn’t get his mouth around, which was close to half of Amos’s considerable length, he jerked with a talented hand. 

That hand continued to work its magic as Holden pulled off for air, his pretty pillowy lips glossy with spit and gorgeously abused. Holden looked up at him through his long lashes, the blushed tip of Amos’s cock making a mess against his cheek as he stroked it, and licked his lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, or like he was waiting for Amos to. Amos just ran a hand through his hair. Holden closed his eyes and leaned into the caress like a kitten. 

“I do want you to fuck me. Eventually,” Holden said, answering a question Amos didn’t think he asked. “This is all just… going kind of fast.”

“Ain’t tryin’ to move in with you two or nothin.’ Just wanna put my dick in you.” He had forgotten that he’d resolved not to plead his case. “But it’s cool,” Amos backtracked, “no rush.” Holden laid a wet, sucking kiss on one of his balls, then the other, then hummed with both of them in his mouth. Amos figured it was some kind of ‘thank you.’ 

“I was just given the impression you were some kinda slut,” Amos dared to say. Holden laughed, then nuzzled his nose below Amos’s balls and licked the space just before his asshole. Then, as if to prove that he’d earned his slut-card, Holden licked with the flat of his tongue over Amos’s rim. The look he gave after sought approval, which Amos was almost too wrecked to give. “Fuck yeah,” is all he could say, but it was enough to encourage Holden. He held nothing back as he licked and sucked at Amos’s hole, jerked his cock and tugged on his balls until he was ready to come. 

“Will you come on my face?” Holden asked. Amos decided those were the six most beautiful words he’d ever heard. Just the mental image of James Fucking Holden’s system-renouned pretty face painted with come from his lashes to his lips was enough to push Amos over the edge. He nodded fiercely, too far gone to verbalize his consent. Holden closed his eyes and opened his mouth with his tongue out, and Amos came in warm streaks of white over his eyelids, cheeks, and tongue. 

Amos needed to capture the momentous occasion.

“Stay still for me,” he instructed, reaching stealthily for his hand terminal. Holden’s eyes opened when he heard the shutter sound of the camera, and his messy face turned bright red.

“Please keep that to yourself,” Holden pleaded, wiping his eyelids with a grimace. It wasn’t what Amos was expecting from him at all. 

“Really? You don’t want me to delete it?” 

“Would you if I did?” 

“Yeah. Immediately.” 

“Then I trust you with it,” Holden said without hesitating. The corners of Amos’s lips quirked up. “Besides,” he added, “I look good coated in your come. Just don’t send it to Naomi.”

“You don’t want your girl to know what a filthy slut you are for me?” asked Amos. Holden laughed. 

“Oh, she knows. I just don’t want her to receive unsolicited pornography on her phone in the middle of the afternoon.” 

“Fair,” Amos said, then he licked a broad stripe up Holden’s cheek, tasting himself and the sweat on his skin. 

“Ew,” Holden said with a joking grimace. 

“You do look good coated in my come,” said Amos into his ear. Then he kissed Holden’s cheek, shoulder, pec, navel, and hipbone before taking his straining cock back into his mouth. 

Not long later, when Holden’s come was dripping from the corners of Amos’s mouth, Amos pulled Holden into a filthy kiss, feeding his own come back to him. Holden gave another half-joking scowl, rejecting the comeswap. 

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” Amos taunted, “lick my tongue.” 

“You’re gross.” 

“Says the guy who stuck his tongue in my asshole, and let me jizz in his eyes. You draw the line at a little splooge?” 

“Don’t say splooge,” Holden protested. 

“Spunk?”

“Worse.” 

“Hm… cream?” 

“Please stop,” he whined. Amos laughed and kissed him, and they kept kissing.

Holden was washing his face in the bathroom when his comm pinged to tell him that Naomi had texted a picture. Of course that piqued Amos’s curiosity. 

“Hey, what’s your passcode?” he yelled into the bathroom. 

“What? Why?” 

“Nothing weird,” insisted Amos. He could see Holden’s expression in his mind’s eye, either an eyeroll or a suspicious squint. 

“It’s my birthday,” he called back. 

“Happy birthday, what’s your passcode?” 

“My passcode is my birthday,” he said as he walked back into the room with a wet face that was no longer covered in come. 

“Right, so… October... fifth,” Amos guessed, based on nothing. 

“March twenty-third,” Holden corrected. The date did not ring a single bell. 

“Yeah, that was gonna be my second guess,” he lied. He typed the passcode in to unlock the message, which was a photo of Naomi’s new pedicure, a dark blue polish with little stars and galaxies on the big toes. “Shit, you two are freakier than I thought, Cap. Feet pics?”

“Gimme that,” Holden said, straddling Amos and snatching the device from his hands. “She’s showing off her pedicure, you pervert.” 

“Lemme reply.”

“Over my dead body,” he said, moving to sit beside him. Amos looked over his shoulder as he typed a reply. 

“‘Cute’?” Amos read aloud. “What kind of sext is that?” 

“Not a sext.” 

“Say, ‘I want to jizz all over those sexy toes.’”

“You’re deranged,” Holden said as he typed another message.  _ Love you,  _ the text read. Amos rolled his eyes affectionately and ripped the thing from Holden’s hands. 

Quickly, and while Holden was half-heartedly fighting him off, he sent a message of his own. 

“Can’t wait to suck  _ them thangs?” _ Holden over-pronounced incredulously as he read the text out loud. Amos chortled. “Is that sexy to you?” 

“Not at all. Funny, though.” The comm pinged again. 

“She says, ‘hi, Amos,’” Holden informed.

“She knows me so well. Tell her I say hey, and that I can’t wait to watch you eat my come out of her cunt.” 

“Amos says hey,” Holden dictated as he typed, “and nothing else. Send.” 

“Prude.” Amos put his arm around Holden and pulled him close. Cuddling after sex wasn’t really something Amos was inclined to do, but it seemed like something Holden would appreciate. He seemed to like it, nuzzling closer even as he gave Amos a nasty look. He read her message over his shoulder again:  _ i’m sure. hope you boys are having fun, getting a massage text you after.  _

Holden put the comm back on his bedside table, then returned to his position under Amos’s arm. 

“How do you feel about some guy digging his hands into your girlfriend?” Amos asked. 

“Who, you or the masseuse?” 

“Both, I guess,” said Amos. He had been talking about the massage, just saying something to fill the time more than anything else, but he supposed it would be nice to know what Holden was thinking about their whole situation. 

“I’m not jealous of a massage therapist,” Holden said, answering half of the question posed to him. 

“What about me, then?” Amos asked. Holden looked at him and let out a big breath. 

“I wouldn’t call it jealousy.”

“What would you call it?”

“Horniness?” 

“S’that all?” Amos found himself asking. A part of him— a part that he didn’t recognize— didn’t want Holden to only want him because he was horny. He’d still have sex with him if that was the case (he was only human, after all) but he hoped it wasn’t. 

“No,” Holden answered. There was silence for a little while. 

“What are we doin’ here, Holden?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Boss says this ain’t just a one-time thing.” 

“I hope not.” 

“So you want me to be your boyfriend or somethin’?” 

“What would you think if I said yes to that?” 

“I’d think, shit, I better read up on how the fuck to be somebody’s boyfriend.” 

“Yeah?” Holden smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said, and kissed Holden’s temple. 

“Okay, then… yeah. That’s what I want, I think.” 

“Okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it OOC for Amos to be this readily willing and unafraid to commit to a romantic relationship? Maybe. Do I just want him to be happy and not have to go through the whole angsty denial ordeal? Absolutely. Is this fic just completely indulgent, anyway? Absolutely. Hope that's okay.


	8. wall sex is easier in space

Naomi was walking on air all day, and didn’t ever expect to come down. She didn’t know she was capable of being so pleased, but as she met up with Clarissa and Bobbie, she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. 

“Okay, Nagata,” Bobbie said almost as soon as they sat down in the luxurious recliners of Tycho’s most opulent spa. “What’s got you so chipper?” 

She had half a mind to share all of the hot gossip, from the sex shop to the hickeys to the voicemail to the threesome that she was sure was on the horizon, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. There were details that needed to be ironed out before their little arrangement could be public, if ever that happened. Besides, telling Alex would surely be a delicate ordeal, and she definitely didn’t want him hearing it through the grapevine. Instead, she gave a vague answer.

“I’m just relaxed,” she said, which certainly wasn’t a lie. She had everything she wanted and nothing to worry about, and she was finally going to get to know what Amos’s dick felt like stretching her open. Relaxed was an understatement. 

“Sure, well, whatever you’re smoking, I hope you brought enough for the class,” said Bobbie. Clarissa laughed. 

“Don’t be so naive, Bobbie,” the Earther said with a smirk. “You know she’s smoking Holden’s dick.” Naomi blushed and laughed, and let them believe she was blushing and laughing because Clare was right. If anything, Holden was probably smoking Amos’s dick as they spoke. 

“He’s still makin’ you that giddy after all these years?” Bobbie asked. “Does he come with a vibration setting?” 

“A lady never tells,” she answered with a wink. 

“You’re positively glowing,” said Clare. “All I ever got from a guy was a headache.” 

“Amen, sister,” said Bobbie.

“C’mon, it’s girls’ day. You don’t need to hear about how good Jim is with his tongue.” 

“Oh, I think we really do,” Bobbie insisted, and Clarissa nodded her head with enthusiasm. Naomi had no problem bragging about it. 

It was a good day. 

* * *

The six of them had dinner together at her favorite restaurant (chosen by Amos, bless his heart) and it was nice to finally be evenly matched in the ratio of girls to boys, with Amos and Holden at her sides, Clarissa, Alex, and Bobbie across the table. Pleasant as it was, she couldn’t help but crave some alone time with Amos and Holden. She had to know what they had gotten up to in her absence; her knee bounced under the dinner table in anticipation of the sexy play-by-play she was starving for. A soothing hand splayed on her thigh to calm her, and she was not-unpleasantly surprised that it was Amos’s and not Jim’s. She looked at him, and he gave her a little smile before resuming his unmannerly demolition of the white kibble on his plate. She was overcome with the urge to kiss him. It would have to wait. 

“Did you ever get back to the room last night?” Alex asked Amos. 

“Nope,” answered Amos simply. He offered no elaboration, which might’ve been suspicious, were it at all uncharacteristic, but Amos was a man of few words anyway, so Alex didn’t push it. Surely, he assumed the big guy spent the night with some girl. It wasn’t technically untrue. 

“That got anything to do with the hickey on your neck?” Alex asked. Naomi laughed. She knew she didn’t put it there, which meant it was Jim. 

“Yep,” answered Amos. 

Bobbie and Clare kept looking at Jim, Naomi, and each other like they knew some secret, but the captain seemed oblivious to it. He was busy downing water to mask the spicy burn of red kibble, which he had insisted he could handle when he ordered it. Naomi scratched the back of his neck and he smiled at her with his eyes closed like a satisfied puppy. 

Naomi excused herself to the restroom while Alex was drawling on about his and Bobbie’s wild time at the bar the night before. She’d heard all the details from Bobbie already, anyway. It was nowhere near as intriguing as her night with Holden and Amos, but of course she kept that assessment to herself. 

She was greeted when she left the restroom by Jim, who was waiting by the door. At first she presumed he was standing in line, but two other single-stall bathrooms remained unoccupied beside the one from which she’d emerged, which meant he had some other agenda. She gave a knowing smile and curled a suggestive finger toward herself, coaxing him in her direction. She closed and locked the door behind them both. 

“So,” she said. 

“So.” He was looking at her with hunger in his eyes. 

“Is this a conversation bathroom meeting? Or a fuck-me-against-a-dirty-wall bathroom meeting?” 

“Guess,” he said as he moved closer to her until her back was against the door, his hands searing into her hips. She pretended to ponder it. 

“I don’t know,” she said, “‘guess it depends if you can get it up again after your day alone with Amos.” 

“I think I’ll manage,” he said, looking down at his own crotch. He was already hardening in his pants. Naomi teased the bulge with a gentle touch. 

“Okay, then,” she said, devising a wicked plan. “You give me what I need, I’ll give you what you need.” 

“And what is it you need?” he said, so close to her that his mouth was moving against hers. He’d be kissing her, if she let him. She didn’t. Instead, she hummed and pretended to hesitate. 

“Information,” she told him, still gracing her fingertips over the now-fully-hard line of his cock. 

“Ask me anything,” he offered with a strained voice. She made an appreciative noise, hooked her thumbs in his waistband, and let his pants pool around his ankles. His boxers followed suit. She squeezed his ass, pulling a gasp from his lips, then ghosted her middle finger over his tight, unused rim. 

“Thought you’d be wet for me,” she said. There was no disappointment in her voice, but the surprise was real. She thought Amos would’ve split him open as soon as he got the chance. “Amos didn’t borrow this hole?” 

“No.” 

“You savin’ this virgin ass for my strap, baby boy?” she asked. 

“I’m not a—” she gave him a look that said ‘play along,’ so he did. “Yes. Belong to you.” 

“Good boy. What did he do with my toy? Did he use this pretty mouth?” She rubbed her thumb over his lower lip as she spoke, coaxing his mouth open. He pulled the digit into his mouth and sucked. 

“Yes,” he said, the sound distorted around her fingertip. 

“Do you like the way he tastes?”

“Not as good as you,” he insisted. 

“Not what I asked.” 

“Yes,” he breathed, “I like the way he tastes. His dick and his balls and his…” He got shy. 

“His hole?” she filled in the blank. Holden nodded. “You ate him out.” 

“Yes,” he confirmed. 

“Dirty boy,” she said in a low voice, not quite a scold but something like it. He nodded again. 

“He came all over my face.” 

“Shit,” she said, breaking character a little bit. “Really?” 

“Yeah. He took a picture.” She raised her eyebrows. “Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, baby boy, that’s okay,” she said. “You gotta show me that, though.” 

“Of course.” 

She made a pleased little noise from behind the line of her smile, then jerked his cock loosely with her thumb and forefinger. 

“Are you hard for me, or for him?” she asked him. 

“You, babe. Only you,” he said. She suspected it wasn’t fully true, but it was the right answer. She smiled and he slid his hand tentatively up her thigh and under her skirt. When she purred happily, encouraging him on, the hesitance disappeared and he got to his knees. She laced her fingers in his hair and pressed his face against her, letting him taste her only through the lacy black material of the sexy panties she wore for this occasion specifically. 

“I’m wet for him,” she said, whispered like a secret. “I’m so fucking wet for Amos.” That wasn’t the whole truth either, but it drove Jim absolutely feral, which was the whole point. 

She was discovering that nothing turned her own quite like her boyfriend’s fierce possessiveness in bed. That was a new feeling. She’d been with possessive men before, and it had never been sexy. But Jim wasn’t possessive because he considered her to be his property, or because he didn’t respect her or wanted to control her. Jim wasn’t Marco Inaros. Jim loved her, worshiped her and respected her needs, wants, and boundaries. They were equal partners in everything. And then they took their clothes off, and he reminded her with his fingers, tongue, and cock exactly who she belonged to. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Jim pulled her panties down around her ankles. When he licked her, tongued at her entrance and rubbed his thumb against his clit just the way he knew she liked, it was like he was seeking to prove that she was wet for him, and not for Amos. She shivered and her toes curled with arousal; the physical pleasure he coaxed from her with his tongue mixing with the adrenaline of being so publicly naughty. It made quite an intoxicating cocktail. She hooked her leg over his shoulder and fucked his face, moaned his name as if to say, ‘okay, you win.’ 

She came with his fingers inside her and his tongue against her clit, then pulled him back to his feet and kissed the taste from his mouth. 

“I bet Amos could pick me up and fuck me against this wall easily,” she taunted against his lips. There was no way Jim wasn’t privy to the way she was egging him on, but it worked anyway. Tycho was spinning at about half a g, which made athletic sex a whole lot easier. (It was one of the many reasons Naomi was of the belief that Belters have better sex than Earthers.) It didn’t take a bodybuilder to lift the twenty- or thirty-something kilograms that made up Naomi’s body in a low-g burn, but she was happy to let Jim feel like a big, strong man. Suddenly, Jim’s hands were firmly under her thighs, her back supported only by the wall, and his cock was pressing inside her as he proved he could fuck her as well as Amos could. 

Naomi resolved to milk the little competition between the boys for all it was worth, later. For now, she just reveled in the incredible rush of being filled. She bit her lip to quiet the moan that threatened to escape and alert the entire restaurant of their semi-public indecency. Jim kissed and sucked at her jaw to quiet himself, though the arousal in his breathing was easily audible. Growing up in small, shared, and non-permanent spaces, Naomi had learned to keep quiet when she came. Holden didn’t seem to have similar training. When he finished, his orgasm ripping violently through his body, she had to stick her thumb in his mouth to muffle the noise. 

When her feet were safely on the ground, she pulled him into a luxurious kiss. 

“Okay, I’ve decided not to replace you with Amos,” she joked. 

“Alright,” he replied in the same tone, “I guess I have to keep you, too, then.” She elbowed him and they laughed together as he put his pants back on and she pulled up her panties. 

“You think there’s any chance in hell they don’t know what we got up to in here?” she asked, knowing well the answer. 

“I’m sure they’ll assume we’re being completely professional,” he said. They both laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion.

“Let ‘em talk,” she said, and they returned to the table. 

When they arrived, Clare was delivering the punchline of a joke that sounded like it’d be funny if Naomi had caught the set-up. The whole crew was laughing, carefree and tipsy, and she thought she and Jim might get away with slipping quietly back into their seats. But when the laughter died down, all eyes were on them. 

“So, uh,” Alex started, trying to break up the awkward silence. Alex is not the person Naomi would’ve called upon to do that, but she appreciated the effort. “This wine is damn good, isn’t it?” 

Clare and Bobbie nodded, Clare looking a little embarrassed for them and Bobbie looking amused. 

“We just gonna ignore the fact that Cap and Naomi clearly just fucked in a public restroom?” Amos asked. Jim put his head in his hands. The whole table laughed, and Naomi had to confiscate the wine from Jim to avoid a repeat of the night before. 

“Oh, simmer down now, Amos,” Alex came to their rescue again, “let them have their honeymoon phase. I think they’ve earned it.” 

“Yeah,” added Bobbie, “I think seven years of saving the fucking solar system from alien biological warfare earns them the right to slut it up a little.” 

“Thanks, I think,” said Naomi. 

“Can we change the subject?” said Jim from behind his hands. 

“Sure, Cap. Here’s something: Naomi— hypothetically speaking, cunnilingus after red kibble, would that burn down there?” Jim put his head down on the table and disengaged from the rest of the conversation. 

When dessert was in their bellies, the cheque was paid, and The Bathroom Incident was all but forgotten, Alex invited them all to go dancing at the bar near their rooms that had become their regular hangout spot on Tycho. Bobbie and Clarissa enthusiastically accepted, while Naomi and Holden insisted they were hitting the hay early. No one pretended not to know what that meant, but it didn’t matter. 

“You taggin’ along, big guy?” Clare asked. 

“Nah, I got two left feet. You kids have fun.” 

“Heading to the room?” Alex asked. 

“Or something,” he answered with a wink. “Don’t wait up.” 

Amos didn’t head straight to the room with Jim and Naomi. Naomi presumed he was giving them a head start to avoid the suspicion of their crewmates, though she would be surprised to learn he cared what anyone else thought. 

Naomi sat in Jim’s lap on the couch as they waited for him to return. 

“Why do I have a feeling dating Amos is gonna involve a lot more public humiliation than I’m prepared for?” Jim asked. She laughed. 

“Dating, huh?” 

“I mean… you know… or whatever.” 

“Dating works for me,” she said, reassuring him. “I don’t know how that’ll go over with Amos, though.” 

“He said he would give it a shot.” He then explained to her in great detail everything she had missed while she was gone. She was surprised by how easy it had been to get Amos to say the b-word, but she was excited about what was to come. 

They kissed as they waited for his arrival, and she was at peace. 


	9. the B-word, the L-word, and other words with other letters

The b-word had been rattling around in Amos’s head since he and Holden said it. Amos didn’t know how to be somebody’s boyfriend. He had never wanted to be one before. Now, he found himself intrigued by the idea, at least. He loved both Holden and Naomi as much as he knew how to love anybody, and he could only hope it would be enough. 

Dinner was nice. He put his hand on Naomi’s thigh, and she didn’t swat it away, which was really nice. He wanted to kiss her. It would have to wait.

He amused himself watching Holden try and fail to look calm while his mouth burned around the Red Kibble he insisted he could handle. Amos listened to the heartbeat of the conversation more than the words, nodding along to the storytelling and banter, laughing when everyone else did, and contributing little to nothing. It was how he made it through most conversations. He had learned from a young age that he didn’t relate to people normally, didn’t laugh at the right times or tell the right jokes or say the right things, so he taught himself to fake it. He didn’t really know whether it worked all that well, because he couldn’t always tell when people were upset with him or not, but he very rarely got slapped in the face these days, so he figured it was good enough. 

Then, Naomi and Holden had sex in the bathroom. They weren’t even subtle about it. Naomi went first, excusing herself to “the ladies’ room” (just another colloquialism that Amos couldn’t wrap his head around— Holden once explained that bathrooms used to have gendered signs on the doors, hundreds of years ago, and the idiom was a vestigial remnant of that. Amos didn’t know why people couldn’t just say ‘bathroom’) and Holden spent all the time she was gone looking over his shoulder in her direction, then looking at Amos, then pretending to be engaged in the conversation, then looking back toward the bathroom. Even Amos could tell he was deciding whether or not she wanted him to follow. Eventually, apparently having made a decision, he got up and excused himself to the bathroom as well. No one at the table, not even Amos, was dumb enough to think he had to piss. 

While they were gone, Bobbie and Peaches were talking about how happy Naomi seemed all day. 

“You’d be that happy, too,” Peaches said, well on her way past tipsy, “if you were getting head that good.” Bobbie and Alex laughed, so Amos laughed, too. 

Alex, ever the jilted romantic, commented half-bitterly about how blessed they were to have found their soulmates. 

“Some of us ain’t that lucky,” Alex said. Bobbie put a comforting hand on his shoulder, then told him to suck it up. Alex and Peaches laughed, so Amos laughed, too. 

Everyone seemed to agree they were the perfect couple, some impenetrable fantasy that anyone would envy. Amos felt weird about it, but he didn’t know why. 

When Holden and Naomi got back to the table, Amos could smell him on her. He felt weird about that, too. 

Peaches and the Martians went dancing. Cap and Naomi went home, hand in hand, surely both planning on a second round. Amos wandered around Tycho’s hospitality district for a little while, peering in the windows of the restaurants, bars and clubs. 

He hovered in front of one particular establishment, a place he frequented. They dealt in cheap booze and expensive sex, and the workers were all taken good care of. It would be easy to go inside, to bring someone back to the room he shared with Alex, and forget about the whole threesome-slash-relationship thing. He could pick up a guy, one who would actually put out, instead of talking a big game about what a  _ cumdumpster _ he is and then being too chickenshit to prove it. It would be fun and uncomplicated, no expectations he couldn’t meet. He wouldn’t have to be the boyfriend-type, the guy who bought presents and chocolates and cuddled after sex and didn’t leave in the morning. Naomi and Holden were happy together, anyway. They’d be fine. 

Amos went inside the bar. He sat on a stool and ordered a beer, taking in his surroundings. This is what made sense to him. Travellers and workers, tired after long days of travelling and working, spending their meager earnings on two of the simplest, most universal pleasures of the Solar system: booze and sex. He was at home in this world, moving invisibly, despite his size, like a rat on the concrete floors of Baltimore. He knew the people, nameless and faceless as they may be. He knew the etiquette, because there wasn’t any. 

He nodded to a pretty boy with curls like Holden’s. The likeness began and ended with the hair, but he figured from behind that would be good enough. 

“They treat you well here?” Amos said instead of a pick-up line. 

“You a cop?” the guy asked, the patois thick in his voice as he spoke slowly. Amos could tell he was putting in a lot of effort to speak English for him. 

“Do I look like a cop?” Amos asked. The guy narrowed his eyes at Amos, hummed as he seized the Earther up. 

“Kinda,” the guy said with a shrug of his hands. 

“Not a cop.” 

“Then what you care they treat me good?” 

“You think a cop would give a shit?” 

“Probably no.” 

“Just wanna make sure you’re good, is all,” said Amos. Guy narrowed his eyes again, then smiled like he’d figured something out. 

“You wanya  _ save me, _ tumang?” he said, flirtation heavy in his voice. He was moving closer to Amos. 

“You need savin’?” 

“Nah. But I bet big Earth man like you could take real good care’a me.” 

It would be easy to fuck this guy. It would be good, too. Good for both of them, which was important to Amos. It would be good for Holden and Naomi, too, in the long run, not to have to deal with the heartbreak of loving Amos. It was the right thing to do. 

“What’s your name, baby boy?” Amos asked, teasing a finger up the guy’s spine. He didn’t normally care to exchange names, and he couldn’t figure out why he even wanted to know, but he did. 

“Jimi,” he said.  _ Shit. _

“Jimi?” Amos repeated. Of course the guy’s name is fucking  _ Jimmy. _ How could it be anything else? 

“That a problem, big guy? Can be ‘baby boy’ instead.” 

“No, uh. No problem. Listen, Jimi, sorry I wasted your time. You know where I can get a box of chocolates around here?”

“Box of… for why?” 

“I think I got a boyfriend to go see.” 

“What?”

“I’ll figure it out. Hey, thanks though, Jimi,” Amos said, and slipped some cash into the guy’s back pocket before leaving. 

The commerce district on Tycho was an unfamiliar battleground to Amos. He didn’t do a lot of shopping. Sometimes he held Naomi’s bags while she shopped, but he mostly just liked keeping her company, and telling her when her ass looked good in something she tried on. It always did. 

He stopped at a candy shop and bought whatever box looked good enough. It was more of a gesture than anything. Then, he headed to a liquor store. That was a little more in his league, or so he thought.

“You got champagne?” he asked the clerk as he entered the store. He was more of a hard liquor kinda guy, but bubbly wine seemed more romantic, for some reason. 

“Sure, if you’re willing to spend a couple hundred thousand dollars and wait two or three months on a shipment from the Champagne region of France,” the man said in a snooty voice. Amos didn’t understand. 

“What?”

“We have _ Gampagne, _ though. Twice fermented on Ganymede. From real grapes, too. Though, the sparkling rice wine is probably more in your price range,” he declared, looking down his nose at Amos. Amos looked at the time on his hand terminal. He should be getting back to the room. Getting arrested by station security for assault would probably kill the threesome mood, so he swallowed the impulse to beat this guy senseless. 

“How much for the Ganymede shit?” 

“Nine hundred.” 

“For the bottle, or the whole fuckin’ farm?” 

“Twenty for the rice wine,” he said, like some kind of ‘I told you so.’

“Tell me something, Steven-with-a-P.H.,” Amos said, reading the nametag on the clerk’s breast for the first time, “does this schtick work for you?” 

“What schtick?” he asked innocently. 

“You act like an asshole, look at me like I’m beneath you, make me think I gotta prove somethin’ to you by shellin’ out a fucking grand for a bottle of champagne that ain’t even champagne? Does that work?”

“You tell me,” he said. 

“You got anything between twenty and nine hundred, Goldilocks?” His bluff called, Stephen’s countenance and stature shifted slightly, and when he spoke again, he sounded almost like a regular dude. 

“Fifty for Le Vin Ceinture,” he said, plucking a bottle from a shelf. “Not made from real grapes, but they got the taste pretty close to right, and the French name makes it almost sound fancy, as long as you don’t tell anybody it translates poorly to ‘Belt wine.’” 

“Sounds fair, I guess,” Amos resigned, pulling out his wallet. 

“You got a girlfriend to impress tonight, big man? Boyfriend?” he asked as he rang the item out and bagged it in a canvas tote. 

“Yeah, uh. Both, I guess.” 

“Lucky man. Alright, you’re all set.”

* * *

“Where have you been?” Naomi asked when Amos finally appeared in the doorway. Amos was surprised they waited. He was glad he decided to show up. Holden’s hand was under her skirt, pawing at her ass as her panties lay orphaned in some unknown spot on the floor. He ducked his head a little to get a better view, and, surprisingly, Holden pushed the garment up to give it to him. Naomi giggled bashfully as she was exposed, but didn’t stop him. 

“Went out,” he answered eventually, then sheepishly placed the goods on the coffee table, concealed in their tote. 

“What’s in the bag?” she asked. 

“Some stuff,” he shrugged. Naomi got up from Holden’s lap to inspect the bag’s contents, positioning herself directly in Amos’s eye line as she bent over. Her breath hitched as Amos dared to rub a finger over her entrance, then slip the digit shallowly inside. She was still full of come. He looked at Holden, who was staring hungrily at him, and decided to rile him up a little. Amos moaned as he pulled his finger from her cunt and sucked it into his mouth. “You taste good, Jim.” Holden just moaned. 

“Relax, boys,” said Naomi, “time for that later. Right now, we’re gonna drink champagne and eat chocolates.” 

“You bought champagne and chocolates?” Holden asked him. “What, no flowers?” Amos furrowed his brow. Should he have gotten flowers? Real flowers would be a hard find on Tycho, but he could’ve picked up fake ones. 

“Did I fuck it up, boss?” he asked Naomi. 

“He’s just teasing, baby,” she reassured, followed by a peck on the lips. “Did good.” She went to the kitchenette and pulled bulbs from the cupboard. Meanwhile, Amos sat next to Holden on the couch, and Holden moved as close as he could without sitting in Amos’s lap. 

“I was gonna get a card, but turns out they don’t make one that says ‘thanks for letting your boyfriend eat my ass, so…” he gave another shrug. Naomi’s uproarious laughter could be heard across the partition. 

“It’s perfect, Amos, thank you,” Holden said, placing a hand on Amos’s thigh and squeezing. Amos wondered if it was supposed to be sexy or comforting. It was a little bit of both. 

“Ain’t a big thing,” Amos dismissed, a little uncomfortable with the sincerity of the moment. 

“Yeah, it is,” Holden said, then repeated: “thank you.” 

“Just tryna do the boyfriend thing right, you know? Ain’t exactly my area of expertise.” Holden seemed to appreciate the effort. That, or the way he leaned his head on Amos’s shoulder and hummed happily was unrelated. Either way, Amos felt good about it. 

“We don’t need you to be anything but yourself, Amos,” Naomi said as she returned. 

“Though we definitely don’t mind if ‘yourself’ comes with a box of chocolates every now and again,” Holden added. Naomi glared at him. 

“We both fell in love with you  _ because of _ who you are, not in spite of it,” she said, handing a bulb to each of them. “You can relax.” 

“Wanna see a picture of Cap with my jizz all over his face?” He changed the subject. He didn’t know what to do with the L-word, so he ignored the warm feeling it gave him inside. 

“Hell yeah, I do.” 


	10. three

Amos fucked like an animal. Naomi luxuriated like a queen at the head of their bed, her long legs spread with Amos’s big, naked body between them as he ate her pussy. Holden sat back and enjoyed the view, and Amos graciously arched his back to show off his ass. Holden wondered if it was an invitation. If it was, it was an incredibly tempting one. 

Amos’s body was gorgeous. There was a tattoo on the back of his shoulder that rippled with his flexing muscles, and his tanned skin glistened under the room’s lamplight. Holden found himself wanting to know what the ink on his skin tasted like. 

He dared to touch. He reached a hand out tentatively to slide down Amos’s back and over his ass. When Amos arched further into the touch, Holden couldn’t help but get a taste. Amos moaned when Holden pressed a kiss to his hole, and the vibrations of his lips against her clit seemed to make Naomi sigh, like a circuit connected the three of them together. It was probably his imagination. It felt meaningful, anyway. 

“You fuckin’ me tonight, Cap?” asked Amos blithely, like he didn’t give a shit in either direction. Holden suspected— and maybe hoped— that he cared more than he let on. His eyes widened at the proposition. He hadn’t really considered doing it that way around, at least not since the first night Naomi mentioned that Amos might be willing. It just made more sense in his brain that Holden would be on bottom. But looking at Amos on his hands and knees, completely at the mercy of him and Naomi, playing pitcher didn’t seem so out of the question. 

“You want me to?” 

“Nah, just been presenting like a fuckin’ bitch in heat ‘cause I want you to  _ kiss _ my hole,” he snarked. Holden bit his asscheek, and Amos laughed. 

Holden looked at Naomi. He didn’t know if he was seeking some visual signal of permission to fuck Amos, or if he was just looking at her because looking at her brought him comfort. 

Holden had seen her naked a million times, each better than the last, but never like this. Normally, when she looked like this, wrecked and panting as she writhed under a talented tongue, Holden was a little too busy to take in the view. As he beheld her like this for the first time, he felt privileged to be allowed to. 

She wasn’t putting on a show like Amos. The sighs and moans that fell from her bitten lips were nothing but pure, unadulterated ecstasy. The hickeys that speckled her breasts like a constellation in the night sky were hardly visible on her skin from this distance, but there was something special about knowing they were present. 

It wasn’t like a porno, as he’d likened it before. It wasn’t performative, staged or exaggerated. It was real. He found himself, not for the first time, amazed that he was still able to fall further in love with her after all. 

“Naomi?” he asked in a small, broken voice that pulled her from an orgasmic stupor. 

“You’re still here?” she joked weakly. He laughed. 

“Do you get off on being mean to me?” Holden asked her. 

“No, baby boy, of course not,” she said. “But you do.” Holden gave a face that said ‘touche,’ and didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know how to phrase the question he wanted to ask. Luckily Naomi’s extrasensory perception was not impaired by her state of arousal, and she read his mind. “Lube’s on the floor in the living room. Go nuts.” Then Holden looked at Amos, who tilted his head in the direction of the door and said: 

“Fetch, puppy.” 

“We’re probably going to have to have a conversation about this dog thing you’ve both been doing,” said Holden. Naomi shushed him lovingly. 

“Hush, puppy,” she said. “Dogs can’t talk.” 

Amos honest-to-God high-fived Naomi. Holden had expected the two of them to gang up on him at some point, but he had pictured that involving a strap-on. He didn’t interrogate the way their humiliating jokes made his dick twitch in his pants. Naomi couldn’t have been more right, he did get off on her being mean to him. That was a dangerous discovery. 

Holden went to the living room to find the lube, which, in hindsight, they should’ve put away at some point. It was on the floor next to the toy Amos had manhandled, in a pile of packaging that never got thrown away. They had been extremely lucky neither Alex, Clare, nor Bobbie decided to show up to their room that day. It had been something of a homebase for them all, being the most spacious of the three apartments they’d been allowed to stay in. They would have to be a lot more careful about what they left out. 

He cleaned up the trash and threw it into the recycler. He understood he was stalling, but didn’t do anything to change that. Holden couldn’t help but feel like he was approaching a point of no return with Amos, like if he went through with this, it made it real. He wanted it to be real. It was just scary. 

Amos was his best friend. Holden was about to go put his dick in his best friend, and maybe risk the two most important relationships in his life by doing so. Or maybe he was about to make them both a whole lot better. He just had to decide how big that risk was, and if it was worth it. 

Holden wasn’t a calculating man. He wasn’t the type to carefully weigh the pros and cons and make a rational, clinical decision. Holden acted on emotion above any kind of logic. Now, as he sat on the couch in the living room with a dildo in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other, his cock hard and his heart racing, his emotions were telling him to run full speed ahead. And so he did. 

When he returned to the room, Naomi and Amos had switched positions. Amos was laying on his back, his cock hard against his abs— fuck, those abs… okay, Holden was one hundred percent on board— and Naomi was sitting on his face. 

“Took you long enough, babe,” she said. “Second thoughts?”

“No,” Holden said as he pulled his shirt from his torso. “Might need to see a therapist about the whole my-cock-gets-hard-when-you-bully-me thing, though.” 

“We’ll make an appointment.” 

Holden pulled his pants and boxers off and approached with trepidation. Amos’s line of vision was blocked, but he must’ve heard or otherwise sensed Holden’s arrival at the foot of the bed, because he spread his legs in invitation. Holden lifted his thighs to expose his hole and rubbed a thumb over the tight opening, sucking Amos’s balls into his mouth as he explored. He looked up at Naomi, who was watching attentively with a salacious look on her face. Encouraged on by the captive audience, he popped open the bottle of lube and coated his fingers. 

Holden had two fingers pumping in and out of Amos when Naomi came. She was always quiet, an impulse she chalked up to growing up in shared spaces, but Holden recognized the irregularity of her breathing as a signal that she was coming, and the long, satisfied sigh that said she was finished. Holden was just getting started. She unmounted Amos’s face, which meant that Holden could see the contortion of his features as he writhed on what was now three fingers, and that he could finally speak. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he said to Naomi. “Okay, Boss, settle something for me: who gives better head?” Holden pitched Amos’s ass— hard— and pulled his fingers out. Amos looked offended by the loss, but then Holden lined the head of his cock up with his hole, and he was satisfied. 

“Hmm,” she pondered with a wicked grin. “Jim.” She was surely just saying that, probably because she knew Amos could handle losing better than he could, but it felt good. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Holden conceded, “you’re much better than me at sucking cock.” 

“Yeah, baby boy. I know,” he said, like a fucking arrow to Holden’s chest. Naomi laughed. 

Amos moaned as he was stretched open. Holden wondered if it had been a long time since the big guy was in this position. He imagined it had; Amos was sure to be a total top, right? Either way, he accommodated the thickness of Holden’s cock easily, and practically purred as he was filled completely. Holden didn’t think he’d be able to last with Amos so tightly wrapped around him.

Holden reached for Amos’s hand, which made Amos laugh. Scorned by the reaction, Holden retracted the offer like he was burned, and made a grumpy face. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo, you can hold my hand if you wanna,” Amos condescended, holding his hand out like a consolation prize. 

“Forget it.” 

“Please,” Amos humored him, pronouncing the L sound more like a W, and Holden resigned to it. He cupped his hand around Amos’s fingers, a disorganized entanglement of digits like two infant hands that had never been held meeting together for the first time. 

“Aw,” Naomi, who had gotten up from the bed somehow without Holden noticing, cooed in his ear as she rested her chin on his shoulder from behind him. “You two are cute.”

He turned his head to kiss her, and she complicated things by rubbing a finger over his hole. 

“What are you doing?” he asked dumbly.

“Helping,” she said. He cursed. She knew his weaknesses well. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” said Holden. He wasn’t complaining, but the statement served to warn Amos, and also— hopefully— to justify why Holden wasn’t going to last very long. He was sure Amos was going to tease him for it, anyway, but didn’t really think he minded being teased. Holden reached for Amos’s cock to bring them to orgasm together, but Naomi swatted his hand away. 

“Uh-uh,” she scolded, “Amos doesn’t get to come until he’s inside me.” 

Amos cursed under his breath, and Holden couldn’t stop himself from coming any longer. He gripped Amos’s thighs with two strong hands and plowed deeper inside as he finished with a deep moan. He leaned in, not far enough to kiss Amos, but far enough to make the option available. He wasn’t really inclined to be laughed at again, but he wanted nothing more than to press their bodies together, taste one another as he came down from the high of such an intense orgasm. Amos obliged him, hooked a massive paw around the back of his neck and indulged him in a sloppy kiss. 

Eventually, Holden pulled out and crashed onto the bed next to Amos. He was going to miss having a bed large enough to fit the three of them side-by-side when their little stay-cation was over. His quarters on the Roci were hardly suitable for himself and Naomi. Maybe, with their engineering minds and the crew’s deep pockets, Amos and Naomi could figure out some kind of expansion. That was a concern for future-Holden. 

A giggle got his attention as Naomi either jumped or was thrown onto the bed. A long, slender leg was slung across his body like he wasn’t even there to get in the way. Then, just to acknowledge his existence, similarly slender fingers graced the line of his jaw, and he turned his head to kiss them.

An unexpected kind of jealousy came over Holden as he laid on his back and watched Amos grind into his girlfriend. He had expected to feel some kind of possessive impulse, some Neanderthal urge to lay claim on his woman. He felt no such need. Instead, he wanted to be her, to be the one who opened up under Amos and got stuffed with his big, unrelenting cock. He laid his head on her shoulder as he watched. 

Amos’s hand moved slowly over her ribs toward her breasts. He moved much more worshipfully than Holden would’ve expected. It was like the animal that had devoured her on his hands and knees had been tamed, trained to treat her body with tenderness and care. He caressed her tits like they were something holy, rubbed a thumb over the dark peak of a hardened nipple like exploring an unknown territory. Naomi’s eyes were closed once again, her entire body blissed out as Amos’s cock moved smoothly in and out of her.

“Feel so good, Boss,” Amos said. She let out a gentle laugh. 

“Naomi,” she corrected. 

“Right. Naomi,” he said, like learning a new word. It was kind of a sweet moment.

Mesmerized by the push and pull of Amos and Naomi making love, Holden wanted to be involved. 

“What are you doing?” Naomi asked as his hand slid down her torso. 

“Helping,” he said, and rubbed two fingers over her clit as Amos fucked her harder. It was more of a gift to Amos than to Naomi, he knew how good it felt when she tightened around him as he played with her. It worked as intended, eliciting a guttural moan from Amos as it made him come. 

“Playin’ dirty, Cap, fuck,” Amos said when he was finished. “Scooch over.” 

Holden maneuvered to make room between himself and Naomi. 

“You know, while we’re at it, you could probably call me Jim.” 

“Nah, fuck that,” he said. “Why don’t you eat my come out of your girlfriend’s cunt, little hole?” 

“Hell no,” protested Naomi, getting up and making her way toward the bathroom. “Kitchen’s closed.”

Holden laughed as he curled into Amos’s side, breathing in the salty sweat of his skin as he nuzzled against his chest like a pillow. 

“That was really good,” Holden said, a little awkwardly. It was just something to break the silence. 

“There’s something I should tell you,” said Amos, ignoring Holden’s statement. “I don’t know how you’re gonna take it.” That didn’t sound promising. 

“And you waited until  _ after _ I put out?” 

“I don’t know if I would call what you did ‘putting out.’ I put out. Naomi put out. You…”

“Fine, you waited until after we had sex?” he corrected, a little impatient. 

“Wanted you in a good mood.” 

“You wanted to ruin my good mood?”

“Didn’t think it through that far.” 

“Okay,” Holden resigned, “what’s this devastating news you have to give me right now?”

“I didn’t come straight here,” he said. Holden squinted.

“When?”

“After dinner.” 

“Yeah, I know, you—” 

“I didn’t go straight to the store, either,” Amos said softly, and Holden started to pick up on what he was confessing. He didn’t have any of the necessary details, but knowing the kind of places Amos tended to visit, he was pretty sure Amos was telling him he went to a brothel. Perhaps it should’ve been alarming that Holden could so easily translate something as innocuous as ‘I didn’t go straight to the store’ to mean ‘I took a detour to have sex with someone who isn’t you,’ but it was Amos, so Holden wasn’t exactly scandalized by it. 

“I don’t care,” Holden found himself saying, with a surprising certainty. “I don’t care what you did before.” 

“I didn’t do it,” he said. “Was gonna… but I didn’t.” Holden digested that for a little bit. It felt like good news. 

“What changed your mind?” 

“I don’t know.” That was frustrating. Holden found himself longing to hear the words ‘I changed my mind because of you,’ but was sure Amos would never admit to that out loud. Holden would have to be okay just believing it to be true. 

“Why did you go there in the first place? I mean, you had to know we were a sure thing, right?” 

“I don’t know, man. You two seemed good, fuckin’ in the bathroom like a coupla teenagers. Didn’t need me complicatin’ shit.” Holden contemplated that. It wasn’t exactly untrue. 

“You’re right,” Holden said, “we don’t need you.” Amos looked affronted, which was justified. Holden was usually better with words, but he found himself at a loss. He didn’t know how to have a  _ serious talk _ about his _ relationship  _ with Amos Burton. About a week ago the idea of it would’ve been completely absurd. 

“You’re tellin’ me this  _ after _ I put out?” 

“No, I mean… we don’t  _ need _ you. Naomi and I are great. We love each other, we have great sex— I mean really, really great sex— we’re not just looking for some guy to fill a void in our relationship.”

“Then why am I here?” 

“Because we  _ want _ you to be here. And I’m pretty sure you wanna be here, too.” 

“I do,” Amos admitted. 

“So why are we fighting that?” 

Amos let out a long breath, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something. Holden was terrified of what it could be. 

“What happens when this little honeymoon phase is over and you two wanna have kids or something?” Amos asked in a low voice. Holden was blindsided. 

“We’re having the kids talk now?” he asked. 

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Naomi doesn’t want kids,” Holden said, kind of ignoring the question behind the question. 

“But you do,” Amos accused. Well, he used to. Lately, it was starting to feel selfish to bring a kid into the fucked up world he lived in. But even if he and Naomi ever did take that leap, which they both considered to be a discussion for the distant future versions of themselves, Holden didn’t think their relationship with Amos would get in the way of that. Polyamorous partners have children all the time. Holden might’ve been biased, but he considered that a perfectly respectable way to raise a family. He’d never thought about it before this moment, but he could totally see himself raising kids with Amos and Naomi, together. But that would scare the shit out of Amos, so he didn’t say that. 

“I don’t know that for sure,” he said instead. It was true. 

“Well, whatever. It doesn’t have to be kids. Does this have an expiration date? Or do you wanna be sixty years old and still chugging my cock?” Holden hesitated, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he was surprised by the question. He had no idea that Amos was contemplating the long term. He didn’t know that was something Amos did. “‘Cause I can handle ending this now. You decide it was a mistake, I’ll bounce back. But I can’t promise to be okay if a couple years from now you decide all the sudden I can’t have you anymore. That ain’t fair.” 

“You want me to promise you forever, Amos? I can’t do that. Not for you  _ or  _ for Naomi.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Naomi interrupted as she returned from the bathroom. Holden didn’t know how much of that she heard, but the walls were thin and she hadn’t gone very far. 

“Yeah, honey, of course,” said Holden. “We were just—” 

“Being idiots, yeah, I got the gist,” she said, then reclaimed her place beside Amos. “Amos, did you miss the part where I said we were equal partners in this? Or when I told you I loved you?”

“No, I was there.” 

“Then which part didn’t you get?” she asked. Amos just shrugged. “I love you  _ both.  _ Not one and then the other. This isn’t temporary.” 

“What if I don’t know how to be the person you love?” Amos asked sheepishly. 

“You already are,” she told him. “Have been for years.”

There was a beat of meaningful silence. Holden didn’t know what was going through Amos’s head, but he seemed to be comforted by her words. She gave him a small, chaste kiss on the lips, and he didn’t pull away for a long while after. 

“No more random hookups, okay?” she added when the moment had passed. 

“Okay,” Amos said, easier than Holden expected. “Is Cap gonna put out at some point, though?” Naomi just laughed and looked at Holden. The little voice in the back of his head was screaming  _ yes _ at the top of his lungs. But he was still scared. He resolved to say something non-specific, a vague affirmative that postponed the need to give a real answer.  _ We’ll see _ was at the tip of his tongue. But what he said was: 

“Give me like thirty minutes.” 

“Shit, Cap,” said Amos. “I was thinkin’ like some time tomorrow.” That was probably more sensible. 

“That works, too.” 

“Good night, boys,” said Naomi happily. 

“Night,” they said in unison. 

Amos made a very comfy pillow. Holden dreamed of some time tomorrow. 


	11. brunch

“I’m just saying, if the three of us go to brunch and don’t at least invite Alex, we’re going to have some explaining to do,” Holden said between sips of his morning coffee. Amos yawned. He was too tired to deal with Holden’s compulsive worrying.

“You’re right,” agreed Amos. “We should invite the whole crew. More the merrier.” 

“Really?” Naomi questioned.

“Sure,” he said to her, “then me and you can sneak off to do weird dom-sub stuff in the bathroom.” 

“I can’t believe you gave him the details of that,” complained Holden. Amos laughed. Naomi shrugged with her hands. 

“It was hot,” she said. Holden made a face that said he agreed. “...But I don’t sub.” 

“Wasn’t asking you to,” Amos said. The way her face contorted excitedly told him she got his meaning. 

“Are you that afraid of people finding out about this?” Naomi asked. 

“No. I’m that afraid of Alex finding out about this, and us not being the ones to tell him. How would  _ you _ feel if everyone in your crew was fucking and you only found out by accident?”

“Confused, mostly,” she answered light-heartedly. “You and Alex don’t paint a very pretty picture together.” Holden’s face scrunched up. “Amos and Alex, I could see.” 

“I’m all for a foursome. Hell, Peaches and Babs can join, too.” Amos said, equally light-hearted, but not dishonest. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t given it some thought. 

“No to Alex,” Holden said. “Clarissa and Bobbie, I’d consider.” Amos was mostly sure he was joking, which was a bummer. 

“Clare tried to kill you,” Naomi reminded him, and Amos wasn’t sure why. They’d all moved past that little detail. Amos didn’t see why something like that should disqualify them from fooling around a little bit. 

“Just Bobbie, then,” said the captain. Naomi rolled her eyes. They were saying and doing things that should mean they were fighting, but Amos didn’t think they were. 

“Jim, I’m starting to worry that Amos’s one-track mind is contagious. I’ve never seen you this horny.” 

“Me neither,” he agreed. “Maybe it’s sexually transmitted.” Amos frowned. 

“Ain’t my fault the captain’s a pervert,” he said. 

“I know, baby,” Naomi consoled, using the soft voice she used when Amos misinterpreted something, which meant they weren’t actually accusing him of anything. That was good. Amos didn’t want to be the thing that ruined Holden. 

“I’m not a pervert,” Holden grumbled. Naomi just laughed at him, so Amos chuckled a little, too. Holden glared at Naomi, who gave an apologetic smile. “Whatever. Are we ready to go on a very public date? That’s a big step.”

“You’re overthinking, my love,” said Naomi. 

“It ain’t like Alex is keeping tabs,” added Amos. 

“He’s your roommate,” said Holden, like that meant something. Amos gave him a face that asked ‘so what?’ “You don’t think he’ll ask questions? What do you say when he asks where you’ve been for two straight days?” 

“‘Out.’”

“He doesn’t ask follow up questions?” 

“Used to. Then I started bein’ honest, now he doesn’t anymore. Turns out he ain’t interested in the play-by-play.” 

“You don’t think he’d say something if you stopped sleeping there entirely?” Holden asked. Amos hadn’t known that was the plan.

“Am I doin’ that?” Holden seemed surprised by the question. 

“Do you want to?” 

“You want me hoggin’ your bed every night?” 

“There’s plenty of room.” 

“What happens if you two wanna be alone?” 

“Same thing that happens if you wanna be alone with Naomi. Or me, if that’s something you— “

“It is,” Amos interrupted. He couldn’t believe Holden didn’t know that for sure. Holden smiled. 

“Good. Look, we don’t have to spend every waking hour together, the three of us. If any two of us want to be alone for a little while, we’ll make that happen. But I don’t wanna go to bed without you both next to me.” 

“Bed on the Roci ain’t big enough for that,” said Amos, which was a question more than it was a statement of fact. It meant, ‘is this still happening when we get back to our real lives?’ 

“Then we’ll have to make it bigger,” answered Naomi for him, which was a ‘yes.’ Amos breathed that information in for a moment, then smiled. 

“Okay,” he agreed. “So, brunch then, or what?”

“Yes,” said Holden. “My vote was always yes. I’m just saying—” Naomi kissed him quiet. 

“If Alex asks why we all went out to brunch without him, we’ll tell him the truth. But if he doesn’t, which he won’t, we’ll wait ‘til the timing’s right. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

* * *

At the restaurant, they were surrounded by couples. Amos didn’t understand what it was about the intersection of breakfast and lunch that classified it almost-exclusively as a date activity, but he figured it was one of those cultural things that didn’t have explanations.

“What’s on your mind, big guy?” Naomi asked him from across the table. Holden was next to him, which wasn’t the arrangement he’d have expected, but it was pleasant. Holden’s knee nudged him every once in a while, and Naomi kept touching his hand. Their plates were all more than half-eaten, and he hadn’t once felt like a third wheel over the course of the meal. He didn’t know if that was a conscious effort on Naomi and Holden’s behalf, or if the three of them just fit together naturally. Maybe it was a little bit of both. 

“Never been on a date before,” said Amos, despite his instinct to say ‘nothing’ and leave it at that. He wasn’t an expert conversationalist, or any kind of conversationalist at that, but he could try. “Not this kind, anyway.” 

Holden furrowed his brow solemnly. Amos had noticed that the captain always got weird when he referenced his sordid past, so he never elaborated. He didn’t like to talk about it in detail anyway. It was nice that Holden and Naomi never asked him to. 

“How are we doing so far?” she asked. 

“Good,” he said. Both she and Holden looked like they wanted him to say more. “Kinda just feels like hangin’ out with you two.” 

“What did you expect?” Holden asked. 

“I don’ know. The movies make it seem like just a lot of personal questions back and forth.”

“You want us to ask you shit like, ‘do you have any siblings?’”

“Not particularly,” Amos answered. He didn’t have any siblings that he was aware of, but, now that he was thinking about it, he had no way of being sure he was the only baby his mom ever popped out. He could picture the frown Holden would give if he said that out loud, so he didn’t. 

“Wait,” said Naomi, “did you watch a bunch of romantic movies to study how to act on a date?” 

“No,” Amos lied. 

Actually, he had been up all night cramming like he had a test in the morning. After Holden and Naomi had fallen asleep in his arms, he’d had a bit of a panic attack. He got up, careful not to wake either of them, and spent the night on the couch scrolling through advice forums on entertainment feeds while crappy romantic comedies played on the screen in front of him. Normally, if he needed to know how to comport himself in a situation, he’d ask Naomi or Holden. He couldn’t very well ask Alex about it without exposing their little secret, and probably wouldn’t have if he could. It wasn’t like the guy got a lot of tail. So, instead, he resorted to the only resources available to him. They weren’t much help. He was still as confused as ever, only a lot more tired. He could only hope Naomi was telling the truth when she insisted that she didn’t expect him to be anything other than who he was, but he had his doubts. He was sure she believed that to be true. He was also sure that he’d disappoint her, anyway. 

“Why, should I?” Amos asked to sell the fib. Naomi seemed to buy it. 

“No, you’re doing great,” she said with a smile. Holden put a hand on his thigh as if to agree. A moment passed in loving silence. 

“We should have sex in the bathroom,” Amos said, filling the claustrophobic space. 

“You always do that,” Naomi said. Amos tilted his head. 

“Do what?” 

“Whenever we have a genuine moment, you say something crass,” she pointed out. Amos did do that. He didn’t like the itchy feeling he got when things got a little too real. It was easier to be horny than human. 

“Don’t mean to,” he told her, a half-truth. He did do it on purpose, technically, but he didn’t want to. 

“Look at me,” she commanded. He obeyed. “I love you.” He looked down. 

“So that’s a ‘no’ on the bathroom sex?” he asked the floor. Holden breathed a laugh beside him and shook his head. Naomi didn’t relent. 

“You’re my best friend,” she said insistently, holding his hand in her own. He looked down at their joined fingers, then back up at her. 

“You’re…” Amos tried, but trailed off. He didn’t know the words. None of the movies or advice columns or bullshit prepared him for what he was actually feeling. There was no script for this. Naomi’s big, brown eyes were looking at him expectantly as Holden’s hand seared a print into his thigh. “Everything,” he said softly, avoiding her gaze. When he dared to look at her, she was smiling. 

“Okay, big guy,” she said, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. It’d be a shame if Jim was left here all alone with his pancakes.” She winked and left. Amos was confused. 

“Is she gonna let me…” he asked Holden. 

“Sounds like it.” 

“You cool with that?” 

“Surprisingly, yeah.” 

“You’re the best wingman ever.” 

“Not your wingman.” 

“Right, you’re just the guy helpin’ me get laid while you sit here and eat brunch by yourself.”

“You’re really pushing your luck, huh?” Holden asked with a frown. 

“Sorry,” said Amos.   


“I’m gonna pay this cheque and meet you two crazy kids back at the room,” he said. Amos mouthed his thanks, and Holden rolled his eyes fondly before pecking him on the lips. As he pulled away, their lips still brushing against each other, Holden added: “if you can’t get it up again for me later, I’m gonna be very disappointed.” 

“I’ll pick up some pills on the way home,” said Amos with a wink. Holden hummed, sarcastically feigning arousal.   


“You sure know how to turn a guy on, old man,” he snarked. 

“Yet I’m the one who’s fuckin’ your girl, little boy."

“Your girl, too,” Holden reminded him. 

“Right.” 

“I mean, she was my girl first,” he bragged, resuming the facetiously competitive tone of voice. 

“Too bad you weren’t enough.” Holden just smiled. They both knew that wasn’t true. 

“Go. Don’t leave your girl waiting. You and me got plans later, don't we?" Right. Holden said he was going to put out. Amos still had his doubts about the captain's follow-through, but he would be happy to be proven wrong.   


"Yeah, Cap. We do." Holden pecked him on the lips once again. 

Amos liked being able to kiss Holden whenever he wanted to. He took advantage, pulling Holden into a kiss as filthy as he felt he could get away with in public. Holden pulled away shortly after Amos’s tongue snuck between his lips. Holden tilted his head suggestively in the direction of the bathroom, and Amos made his exit in pursuit of Naomi. When he looked back, Holden was wearing an amused expression. 

Naomi was waiting outside the door of the bathroom when he arrived. She took his hand and pulled him into the little room. 

“Thought you might’ve changed your mind,” she said. He shook his head and coiled his arms around her, pressing their hips together as he cupped her chin and tilted her head into a kiss. 

There was nothing filthy about the way he kissed Naomi. With Holden, he’d already have a hand down the seat of his pants by now, forcing their bodies together with a strong grip on his ass as their lips and tongues met. Holden’s legs would be wrapped around his waist, his back pressed against the tile of the wall with no regard for how cold or uncomfortable it might be. They’d be sweaty and panting, lips bitten and slick with spit. On the contrary, when he kissed Naomi, he treated her with delicate care as he poured all the love he was capable of mustering into their connection. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, just barely breaking the kiss long enough to get the words out. He contemplated his answer as he kissed her, a billion possible positions and scenarios flooding his mind. 

He wondered if she'd get on her knees for him. As often as he'd fantasized about sex with Naomi- which was alarmingly often- he very scarcely permitted himself to picture such a thing. He allowed himself the pleasure just this once, closing his eyes and indulging in the possibility of her lips wrapped around the erection that was growing in his pants. He'd let her go slow, suckling at the tip or licking up the underside while she worked the base with her hand. He wondered if she'd be good at it, or if it'd be good enough just knowing it was her. It was a tempting idea, but it wasn't what he wanted. 

He briefly considered doggy-style on the floor, but it was out of the question. Maybe with Holden sometime. 

Then he thought about what she had told him about her exploits with Holden at dinner the evening before. The captain had dropped to his knees for her, ate her out until she couldn’t stand before picking her up and fucking her against the wall. When she told him that, divulged every salacious detail in a wickedly sultry voice, Amos had wanted to try that, too.  


He wanted to fuck her in so many ways, in so many places. But something didn't feel right.

Though he’d fucked her the night before, and shared her bed the night before that, this was a big first. It would be the first time they had sex together, just the two of them. This was more than a decade of history together coming to a head: the one thing Amos had always wanted, delivered. Suddenly, the illicitness of semi-public bathroom sex felt cheaper than it was sexy, and he just wanted to make love to her in the comfort of the bed they shared. The filthy shit could come later. He wanted to treat her how she deserved to be treated. 

“How attached are you to the whole ‘bathroom sex’ idea?” he asked. Naomi looked surprised. 

“Thought it was what you wanted," she said.   


“I thought so, too.”   


“What changed your mind?” 

He considered lying. He could say it was less dirty without the whole crew back at the table knowing exactly what they were up to, which made it less fun. He could point out that there was only one stall at this restaurant, and say he didn’t want to hold up a line of angry brunch-goers. He could take the vague, one-word answer approach he usually took, and say ’cuz.’ But he looked at Naomi, who was everything, who loved him more than he deserved to be loved, and decided to tell her the truth. 

“Never had you alone before,” he told her. “Want it to be good, the first time.” She seemed to have a positive reaction to that, but Amos couldn't quite read it.   


“It would be good anywhere, Amos. It’s you and me.”

“Yeah. We’re both great at sex.” 

“I meant because we’re best friends,” she said, then smiled and added: “but yeah, that too.” He pressed his forehead to hers. 

“I want you in our bed,” he said softly. “That okay?” 

“Of course, baby.” They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other’s air, then Naomi left a peck on his lips and opened the door to leave. 

“And Boss? I mean Naomi?” She paused, turning her head back to look at him. 

“Yeah?”

“I like it when you call me ‘baby,’” he admitted. Her smile lit up the entire room. 

“Noted.” 


	12. naptime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long unfortunately writing is hard and no one is paying me to prioritize this  
> i don't know who the girl who updated every other day was but regrettably i am not that girl anymore

Holden stepped out of the hot shower and into the steamy bathroom. He looked at himself, distorted in the foggy mirror, and pressed the button that cleared the condensation from the surface. He looked better rested than he had in awhile. There was a cropping of facial hair infesting the lower half of his face like an invasive species, that Naomi had affectionately dubbed his ‘vacation beard.’ She seemed to like it, so it stayed. His hair was getting longer, too, which would need to be handled before it got out of control. He gave it a week until his curls were in charge more than he was. He made a mental note to find a barber. 

Above all else, the man in the mirror looked happy. Not because he was smiling at himself, or anything, but because the lines in his face that deepened when he worried had softened considerably, and because he didn’t feel any overwhelming obligation to look professional. He liked himself like this. 

When he reentered the bedroom, it was the same as it had been when he left it— the bed apocalyptically unmade, his clothes littering the floor— save for a new addition to the bedside table. Holden laughed to himself, rolling his eyes at the box of boner pills Amos had so graciously gifted him. Still clad in only a towel, he brought the present into the living room to say something about it, but discovered that Naomi was nowhere to be found, and Amos was fast asleep on the couch. 

Holden looked fondly at Amos’s sleeping body, face down and snoring like a bear in a storybook. He returned to the bedroom, replaced the little pill box on the table, and pulled the comforter from the mass of sheets at the bottom of the bed to lay over Amos. As he tucked the big guy in, he realized Amos must not have gotten much sleep the night before. Suddenly, Holden felt guilty for having slept like a baby with his arm as a pillow. He kissed Amos’s forehead and let him sleep. 

Amos grumbled awake about an hour later, wiping the sleep from his eyes and looking confused. Holden was watching the news feeds. Things were pleasantly slow. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Holden greeted. Amos groaned.

“How long was I out?” 

“Been about an hour since I found you. Where’s Naomi?” 

“Said Drummer needed something,” he said as he sat up. “I figure it’s a sex thing.” Holden doubted it. 

“Naomi’s not having sex with Camina Drummer.” 

“Yeah, but I can dream,” he shrugged. Holden just rolled his eyes. 

“Did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yeah,” Amos lied, “why?” Holden just pointed his eyes down to the blanket that was now in a pile over Amos’s legs, then back up to his face. “Okay, maybe not. Used to sleepin’ alone, I guess.” 

“If you’d rather sleep alone, don’t let me guilt you into staying,” Holden said, hoping to God that Amos would turn down the offer. Holden didn’t want to be the thing keeping him up all night, but he really, really wanted him to stay. 

“I’m a big boy, I’ll say somethin’ if I gotta say somethin.’” 

“Okay. Good.” Amos patted his own thigh like summoning a dog to his lap. Holden glared at him, disinclined to obey such a demeaning command. 

“C’mere, puppy” he beckoned. Holden grimaced. 

“Seriously, what’s with the dog thing?” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“It’s weird.” 

“But do you like it?” 

“It’s degrading.” Amos just looked at him, and Holden could practically hear the ‘but do you like it?’ in his stare. He thought about it. He didn’t dislike it. He didn’t want Amos to make him bark or whimper or drink from a bowl, but he certainly didn’t mind a little verbal humiliation. Naomi and Amos both knew that well already. 

“You can be honest. You know I got no shame. The worst thing you can think of, I’ve done worse. And sometimes I wasn’t even gettin’ paid.” Holden frowned. “What, bad joke?” 

“Was it a joke?” Holden asked. Amos shrugged.

“Jokes can be true,” he said. Holden’s frown deepened. Amos abruptly diverted his focus. “It’s just you and me, little hole. You wanna get real weird, I’m down.” 

“Weird how?” asked Holden with narrowed eyes. 

“However you want,” Amos said. “I got a feeling you’re freakier than you let on.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Holden admitted, both to Amos and to himself. He wanted things with Amos that he didn’t know he was capable of wanting, things he couldn’t even begin to put into words. Whatever Amos had in mind, whatever Amos suspected he wanted, he wanted it. He just didn’t know what exactly it was. 

“What do you want, Jim?” _I want you to call me Jim more often._

“I don’t know,” he answered. Amos didn’t seem to buy it. 

“Come on, don’t tell me Mr. _I Miss Being A Fucking Cumdumster_ doesn’t have any kinks.” Holden was never going to live that voicemail down. He didn’t now if he wanted to be let off the hook for it. 

“It’s not like I’m vanilla or anything, I just…” he started, then trailed off. This was Amos. The guy who was practically incapable of judgement, who didn’t expect eloquence, politeness, or anything but honesty. He could tell the truth. “Okay, fine. Here it is: I don’t want to tell you what I want. I don’t want you to ask. I want you to do whatever _you_ want, and I wanna let you.” 

Amos hummed contemplatively. 

“You know that’s a dangerous thing to ask a guy like me,” he said solemnly. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” 

“I trust you.” 

“Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t,” Amos said distantly, like he was picturing some horrific circumstance that Holden couldn’t see. Holden put his hand on Amos’s, which seemed to ground him back in reality. 

“Amos,” Holden said, assuming the most reassuring voice he was capable of, “I’ve been with a lot of people. I’ve never, ever trusted someone with this. I trust you. I want to be yours.” 

“Even if I hurt you?” ask Amos weakly, with watery eyes opened wide. Holden rarely saw fear in those big green irises, but it was there as clear as the Montana sky. 

“Especially if you hurt me,” Holden quipped with a cheeky grin, a lewd joke to lighten spirits, Amos’s signature move. It was unsuccessful. Amos frowned. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted, his eyes drifting back into the distance. 

“Not even if I ask nice?” asked Holden. Amos’s grim expression remained, and the silence weighed the room down, even in less than half a g of ambient gravity. Holden squeezed Amos’s limp hand, reminding him of their connection. Amos looked up like just remembering that somebody else was even there. Holden couldn’t tell how long the stormy wordlessness lasted, but it felt like an eternity. When the spell was broken, it was sudden like the crack of a whip. 

“Do you only want me ‘cause Naomi doesn’t hit you hard enough?” Stunned to silence, Holden took a long time to answer. Finally, he responded: 

“How could you possibly think that?”

“I’m just tryna wrap my brain around what’s goin’ on here.” 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m just into you?” 

“Yeah. ‘Cause like a week ago you didn’t really look at me at all, and now you look and me like my face is a fucking chair. It ain’t like I mind or nothin,’ I’m just tryna figure you out.”

“And you’ve come to the conclusion that I must only like you because you can spank me really hard?”

“It makes sense. You like being scared. I’m scary.” 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Holden insisted, “I told you that.” 

“Then why? ‘Cause it ain’t my charming personality.” 

Holden took another long while to construct an answer. Why was Holden so compelled to be crushed like a bug under the swat of Amos’s massive hand? Why did Holden’s skin feel a size too tight around his muscles at just the thought being used by him? Why did his cheeks get hot to the touch as he stood under the spotlight of the big man’s gaze? That was easy. Holden was a slut, and Amos was hot as shit. 

Those questions were useless to him. The real question, the question Holden searched his mind for an answer to, was a little more complicated: why was Holden suddenly so willing to _act_ on those secret, slutty impulses? Why make his sordid needs known? Why, when for all his life he repressed those urges, was Holden ready _now?_

There was only one reason Holden could think of, the same reason he’d let Amos take a picture of his face coated in jizz, and the same reason he’d let Amos take him however he wanted. Amos was his best friend. Holden trusted him unequivocally— that, plus his newly discovered, unrelenting sexual attraction to the man, plus Naomi’s enthusiastic permission, and Amos’s surprising reciprocation of his feelings, equalled the perfect circumstance to finally get what he’d always really wanted. 

“I don’t want to do this because I’m scared of you,” Holden finally said. “I want to do this because I’m not.” 

Amos just cocked his head in confusion, so Holden elaborated. 

“Sure,” he continued, “you could snap me in half with your bare hands. And yeah, okay, that’s hot to me. I can’t deny that. But there have been plenty of people in my life that could hurt me, and would. I love you because you could hurt me and _wouldn’t.”_

Amos squinted as he processed that, but remained silent. So, Holden went on: 

“I will admit the sex part is sudden. Trust me, I’m feeling the whiplash of it all worse than you are. But the love part isn’t new.” 

“You both keep saying that word.” 

“What, ‘love’?” Amos looked down, avoiding eye contact once more. Holden took it as a yes. “You don’t have to say it back. But you should hear it.” 

“It’s been two days,” Amos said, like it was too early to start throwing around such a weighty term. Holden breathed something like a laugh in disagreement. 

“It’s been seven years,” he corrected. Amos didn’t say anything, but he appeared to be impacted by the statement. “I trust you. So we can get weird on this couch or on the floor or in a fucking public restroom, or we can have nice, loving vanilla sex in _our_ bed. Or I can keep sitting here watching the news while you nap for a little while longer. I don’t care. I just want to be as close to you as you’ll let me.” 

“You’re gonna need a safeword,” Amos said. “‘Cause I don’t know if I wanna take ‘no’ for an answer.” 

Holden grinned and finally climbed into Amos’s lap, with one knee on either side of his legs. Amos’s eyes widened, but he welcomed the change in positions, steadying Holden’s body with a big palm on the back of his thigh, just under his ass. Holden practically purred as Amos pulled him into an intense kiss. He’d never need to hear Amos say the words ‘I love you’ as long as he kept kissing him like that. 

“Guess you had no trouble getting it up for me again,” Holden teased, rubbing the hard line of Amos’s erection through his clothes. 

“Get up,” Amos commanded. Holden didn’t know what he did wrong. He got off of Amos, who stood. 

“I’m sorry I—” Holden started, but was interrupted as he was thrown over Amos’s shoulder and carried to the bedroom, same as the day before.

As soon as Holden’s back hit the mattress, Amos was on top of him, resuming the kiss like they’d never paused. They only ever separated for an instant to undress each other before reconnecting like powerful magnets. 

They were panting together, naked and hard, by the time someone broke the pregnant silence. Holden’s legs were parted on the bed and Amos’s hand was making its way south of his waistline. 

“Wait,” said Holden. Amos practically growled.

“I swear to God, Jim, if you do this to me again—” he warned, then seemed to fold in on himself before he could formulate a complete threat. Holden had every intention of finally finishing what they started, but he found himself curious to hear the end of that sentence. 

“You’ll what?” Holden prompted. Amos sighed in resignation. “What would you do if I made you wait longer?” 

“Fucking… nothing. Okay? But I’m not gonna be happy about it.” 

“Hmm… wrong answer.” 

“Fine,” resigned Amos with an eye roll, “I’d be thrilled to just do mouth stuff, again. Better?” 

“No,” Holden said. Amos looked confused, so Holden decided to stop stringing him along, even though it was fun. “Amos, I have been teasing you for two days straight, telling you how bad I want you to throw me down and use me however you want. Now you have me in bed, naked, on my back, for the second day in a row, and I’m sayin’ ‘no’ to you? Again? What are you gonna do about that?” Amos narrowed his eyes. 

“You want me to coerce you?” Why did Amos choose this of all times to be a gentleman? Holden shook his head. 

“I’m already convinced, Amos. I want you to _shut me up.”_

“Oh, now we’re on the same page,” said Amos with a grin. “Sit on my face.” 

“Really?” Holden asked, spoiling the momentum with his surprise. He’d thought his insinuation had been pretty clear. “I thought you were gonna... put something in my mouth,” he hinted more blatantly. Amos nodded with a face that seemed to indicate he’d understood the first time. 

“I’m sure you can multitask,” he said, then folded his hands behind his head and laid down on his back. Holden got the picture. 

Holden wasn’t quite tall enough to sixty-nine with Amos properly, which amused Amos to no end. 

“Aw, little one, that’s okay,” he consoled, though his voice was more teasing than comforting as he spoke through a laugh. “Take what you can.” Holden pouted as Amos went back to licking his hole. He pinched Amos’s leg bitterly, which earned him a hard, punishing spank. Amos had been wrong when he surmised that Holden only wanted him because he could hit hard, but the captain had to admit it was a perk. Naomi’s swats felt like kisses in comparison to the merciless sting of Amos’s palm clapping against his skin. 

As instructed, he took what he could of Amos’s massive cock into his mouth. When he felt Amos stretch to reach the lube on the bedside table, his body tensed involuntarily. Amos noticed. 

“Relax, bug,” Amos soothed. Holden took the pet name to mean he was curling up again. He took a deep breath. “Do you ever finger this hole?” he asked as Holden heard the _click_ of a bottle being uncapped. Holden didn’t remember the last time he had.

“It’s been a while.” Amos hummed— a neutral, acknowledging sound. Holden heard the squelching noise of viscous liquid evacuating its container, and breathed away the impulse to clench. 

“Atta boy, breathe.” When Amos’s lubed fingers rubbed over his hole, Holden was surprised not to feel any immediate coldness. Of course, Amos would’ve thought to warm it in his hands, something Holden had neglected to do for him. Amos didn’t press inside immediately, another unexpected turn of events. He just teased his pointer finger gently over the rim, leaving tender kisses on the flesh of Holden’s asscheek. “Naomi does this for you, doesn’t she? Rubs you like this, real gentle?” 

“Not usually.” 

“Did it last night. Made you shoot like a rocket, just with her fingers.” 

“Yeah,” he recalled fondly. Though, as he remembered it, Amos had a lot more to do with that than he gave himself credit for.

“You that sensitive here?” he asked, “or is it just the thought of your girl’s dainty little fingers playin’ with your hole that drives you crazy?” Holden didn’t know the answer to that. Amos didn’t demand a response, just kept talking. “So fuckin’ hot, such a dirty girl.” 

“Me or her?” Holden quipped. Amos laughed and slapped his ass. 

“Both of you, princess,” he said with another kiss. 

Amos’s dick twitched excitedly, reminding Holden that he was supposed to be sucking on it, not just passively admiring its impressive length and girth as he focused on the thrill of not knowing when Amos was finally going to put a finger in him. He wrapped his hand around the base and guided it back to his lips, dipping his tongue through the slit as he suckled on the head. Amos bucked up a little, but stopped himself. “Uh-uh, Cap,” he chided sweetly, “why don’t you turn around and kiss me while I play with this pretty hole?” 

Holden was confused by the request, but he obliged it, crawling to align their faces together. Amos held him close and kissed him hard, distracting him as he finally pressed one finger past Holden’s slick rim. Holden gasped into the kiss, but didn’t stop kissing back. Holden didn’t know why Amos was being so gentle, especially after the conversation they had just had, but he found himself not minding it. 

“You’re being weird,” Holden couldn’t help but point out.

“Weird how?”

“I told you you could do anything you wanted with me. Anything,” he emphasized. “And now we’re cuddling and kissing, and you seem to have no intention of actually fucking me any time soon.” Amos chuckled. 

“You made a real sweeping assumption there, Jim.” _Jim!_

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You assume that if I could do anything I wanted to you, I’d choose to hurt you.” 

“I—” he tried to defend himself, but he didn’t know what to say. It was kind of true. He might’ve confused what he wanted with what Amos wanted. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Jim,” he said. It might’ve been a wholesome moment, if he wasn’t working a second finger into Holden’s asshole as he spoke. “I can give it to you as rough as you like later. Let me be gentle this time.” 

Holden did his best to think through that confession as Amos scissored his fingers, stretching him open. Amos kissed him again, and for a long time, that was the end of it. But Holden was still confused by the sudden change in pace— how Amos went from ‘you’re gonna need a safeword’ to ‘let me be gentle this time’ like slamming on the brakes. 

“What changed?” he asked, once the curiosity became unignorable. “What happened to ‘I swear to God, Jim, if you make me wait any longer...’?” 

“I didn’t realize how fucking terrified you were.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You’re tense. I’m huge. Bad equation.” Holden did the math in his head, and the big guy was right. 

“So that’s why you’ve been kissing me and holding me and talking me through it? You’re tricking me into relaxing?” Holden asked. 

“Is it working?” 

“Yeah, surprisingly well.”

“Good,” said Amos, then slid a third finger inside, stretching Holden further than he knew he could stretch. Holden was sick of talking things through, so he focused on the kissing. He couldn’t wait until all the little complications were worked through, and they could get to the part where Amos could throw him on a bed, or pick him up against a wall, and take what he wanted without asking so many questions. His big brain, the one that rattled in his head and produced anxiety like a factory, knew that the capital-C Conversations were an important part of having a healthy relationship. But his little brain, the one that was drooling precum as it rubbed against Amos’s hardness, begged to take the wheel. Holden gave it what it wanted— turned his big brain off and let his body do the talking. 

“Hands and knees,” Amos instructed. 

“What, you don’t wanna make sustained, meaningful eye contact while you make love to me?” Holden mocked as he moved to all fours. Amos punished the sass with a hard spank. 

“Behave,” he commanded. 

“Or what?” Holden challenged. 

“Or you don’t get fucked today,” Amos threatened. 

“Yeah, right.” 

“You think I’m bluffing? I’m perfectly happy spilling on that pretty face again, little boy.” 

“Won’t let you take pictures,” Holden threatened back, though it was less foreboding. 

“Aw,” Amos cooed, pure condescension. “You don’t have to let me, honey. I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want.” He punctuated the warning by reintroducing the same three fingers to Holden’s sloppy entrance, resuming the fucking motion of his arm with punishing fervor. As Holden graciously accepted the pounding from the new angle, he tried not to get hung up on being called ‘honey’ by Amos, even as a joke. 

Holden’s whole body tensed involuntarily as the head of Amos’s cock pressed against his hole. Amos graced a big hand over the side of his body, soothing him like petting a dog, and placed a careful peck on the back of his shoulder. 

“Breathe,” Amos reminded him. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t been. Holden took a deep breath, and on the exhale, Amos pushed inside him slowly. 

Being fucked by Amos wasn’t what he expected, it was better. It wasn’t brutal, unforgiving hate sex that would surely leave him sore the next day. Amos didn’t smack him across the face, grip bruises into his hips, spit on him, or call him degrading names, like he did in Holden’s fantasies. Instead, those big, murderous hands ghosted softly over the planes of his body as Amos grinded into him. The only sounds that passed through those tactless lips— save for the grunts and moans of good sex— were comforting placations, soft-spoken nothings and calm, shushing noises. 

“I’ve got you, puppy,” he said, and “good boy.” The dog motif that so frightened Holden went from degrading to uplifting with just a slight change in tone and circumstance. It made him feel safe. Warm. 

Not long after Holden became accustomed to his tight body stretching to looseness around Amos’s width, he was emptied without warning. Amos hummed as he admired the gaping void he left in his wake, and Holden could only imagine the desperate wink of his deserted hole. Amos seemed to appreciate the view, cursing under his breath as he rubbed the sensitive rim with a finger or thumb. 

“On your back,” he instructed. “Gonna give you that eye contact you asked so nicely for.” 

Holden flipped over as quickly as he could manage, eager to be filled once again. He greatly appreciated the new position— drinking in the glorious view of Amos’s hard body in action. He let himself grace the backs of his knuckles over the hard hills of his abdominal muscles, marveling at the golden color of his tan as it reflected the lamplight. Holden could tell Amos was holding himself back from mocking him for such a genuine display of wonderment, but he couldn’t care less. Amos kissed his neck as he guided his cock back where it belonged, and Holden wrapped his legs around his waist and let himself revel in the feeling without a worry in the world. 

When Amos took him into his firm grasp, all of the self-consciousness of coming too soon dripped away, and instead he focused on the intense pleasure of being brought to orgasm. 

“That’s it, baby boy, come for me,” he coaxed, and Holden did, spilling all over his own abs. Amos pulled him close and finished inside him with a drawn-out moan, before pulling out slowly and kissing him through the aftershocks. 

  
  
  


When they were finished and cleaned up, Amos flopped onto the bed next to Holden.

“Nap with me,” he proposed, stretching out his arm in invitation. Holden accepted, curling into Amos’s embrace. Amos instructed the lights to dim, and they laid serenely in the almost-dark. 

“Can I ask you something?” came Amos’s voice. 

“Sure.” 

“What you told me in that voicemail… about you and Cam Paj…” 

“I recall,” Holden admitted, despite his humiliation about the whole ordeal. 

“Was that true?” 

“Yeah, why do you ask?” 

“Guess you just don’t seem like a guy who’s been fucked before,” Amos shrugged. 

“Well, that was ten years ago, and he was half your size.” Amos made a noise of amused acknowledgement. “Plus,” Holden added softly, “I didn’t care all that much if he liked me.” 

“Wait… you were nervous that I wouldn’t like you?” 

“No.” 

“Aw, you were,” Amos cooed. Holden thumped him with his middle finger and thumb.

“No, I wasn’t. It just would’ve been pretty awkward after if it had been bad.” 

“I’m sure it would’ve been fine. I’m a very good faker.”

“Don’t tell me that.” 

“It was great, Jim. Mind-blowing. I’ll never be the same, really,” he deadpanned. 

“I hate you.” Amos chuckled. 

“Nah, it was good. We’re good together.” 

“Yeah, we are.”


	13. margarita monday

When Naomi returned from helping out Camina’s understaffed engineering team, she was met with an adorable sight. Two naked bodies, one much bigger than the other, curled together with contented looks on their snoring faces. Naomi snapped a photo on her hand terminal, unsure whether it was for blackmail purposes or just to savor the sight. 

Her presence in the room seemed to startle Jim into wakefulness. He blinked the nap from his eyes, smiling as soon as he registered her presence. She smiled back.

“You’re cute, little spoon,” she said. He made a joking grumpy face, then resumed smiling. He patted the bed next to himself. She shucked her coverall and she joined the pile of naked limbs in her bra and panties. 

“Where’d you go today?” he asked her. 

“Amos didn’t tell you?” 

“He said you were doing something vague for Drummer, and that it was probably a euphemism for sex.” She laughed. 

“And you’re, what? Checking to make sure it wasn’t?” she pretended to accuse. She knew he wasn’t a suspicious lover, and he knew there was nothing to be suspicious about. She wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that Amos knew that for sure, but even if he did really believe she was screwing Drummer, he didn’t seem to mind. She supposed that was good enough. 

“No, I’m just wondering. I figure if you were having sex with Camina Drummer, you’d have the decency to give me the naughty details of it.” 

“Sorry to disappoint. It was a lot less exciting than that. Her chief engineer broke her hand, which made her the fifth team member to call off. I figured I could take a day off vacation to pick up some slack.” 

“Luckily, one Naomi Nagata is worth at least ten regular guys.” 

“Exactly,” she agreed with a smile, then gave him a kiss like a reward for the flattery. “You know Camina, she wouldn’t ask for help if she didn’t really need it.”

“I know the type,” said Jim, insinuation heavy in his voice. It wasn’t uncalled for. 

“Looks like you two had plenty of fun without me. Is your ass gonna be too sore to come dancing with us tonight?” she asked, gracing a palm over the curve of Jim’s ass. Camina had invited their crew out for drinks on the house in exchange for her labor. Naomi would’ve done it for free, but she’d never turn down a night of free cocktails and loud music. Jim, on the other hand, just about always would. 

“If I say yes do I get out of it?” he tried. 

“Nope,” she said playfully, popping the consonant sound at the end of the word. She wouldn’t coerce him to dance with her, but she always liked his lustful eyes keeping watch from the sidelines as she used Amos's stoic body like a stripper pole. And anyway, it was his turn to babysit her while she got shitfaced and made questionable decisions. It was only fair. 

“Not sore. He was actually really gentle.” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. She’d expected the two of them to take advantage of their time alone, and have all the brutal sex their hearts desired. “Yeah, I’m shocked too. But, I don’t know. I think it was exactly what I needed.” 

“I thought you needed to be thrown around and spanked,” she said, emphasizing the last word with a hard slap. He gave a shy laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with his soft smile. 

“Still do. But, I don’t know. It was nice to be taken care of by him. Being loved by Amos? That’s a pretty remarkable thing.”

“We’re very lucky,” she agreed, walking her fingers tantalizingly over his skin to dip between his cheeks and ghost over the used rim of his hole. His breath hitched in that same delicious way it always did when she played with him there, like he was surprised and scandalized and delighted all at once. Curiously, reluctantly, she slipped her pointer shallowly inside to feel the mess Amos left there, watching and noting the way Jim’s features shifted from confusion to pleasure as he accommodated the slender digit. 

“I’m extra lucky,” he said, his strained voice breaking through a cloud of heavy breath. 

“Why’s that?” she asked, more because she knew he wanted her to than because she didn’t know the answer. She slid a second finger alongside the first as she asked, an unprecedented move. 

“I get to be loved by you, too,” he choked out, even more weakly. He sounded wrecked, like he was being stretched past his limit, though she knew Amos must’ve pushed him much farther than she could. At first, she thought it to be a performance, a hyperbolic reaction, but Jim wasn’t really one to put on a show in bed. No, this was a genuine response— not to being fingered in general, but to being fingered by Naomi.

She reclaimed her fingers. Jim and Amos had their fun together; it was her turn to get fucked. She straddled his legs to lay on top of him. 

“Me too, baby. Suck,” she instructed, offering her slick fingers up to his lips. He grimaced, looked at her with an adorable face, like asking  _ ‘do I have to?’. _ She smiled and shook her head, impressed by his willingness but understanding of his reluctance, and wiped her hands on his torso. “Good little cumrag,” she degraded. Feeling his cock twitch against her, she leaned into a tender kiss that quickly intensified. One of his hands rested on her hip as the other unhooked her bra behind her back. It rapidly escalated from there. 

Her underclothes were somewhere on the ground when Amos’s body stirred beside them, awoken either by the bouncing of the bed springs or the sound of Jim’s moans as Naomi rode him. 

“Heya Boss,” came the jovial sound of his voice.

“Hey big guy,” she greeted in the same casual manner, as if Jim wasn’t moving inside her as they spoke. She wasn’t sure, but Jim seemed to interpret the nonchalance of her tone as a challenge, as he bucked harder into her and rubbed her clit until her breath hitched and she could no longer banter so easily. She let out a long, stunted sigh to advertise her pleasure, and he smiled like he’d won something. 

“Good thing I got those pills, huh Cap?” Amos teased. Jim laughed and reached for a box Naomi hadn’t noticed on the bedside table. He tossed the pills in Amos’s direction, boasting that it wasn’t open. 

“Help yourself, old man,” he taunted. It was an invitation as much as it was a dig. Naomi was less inclined to be objectified in bed than Jim was, but there was something sexy in a forbidden way about being offered up like that. She certainly wouldn’t mind Amos taking his turn with her. 

“Nah, you two enjoy yourselves. I’m gonna take a shower,” Amos declared. Naomi might’ve been offended, but the pills led her to believe his rejection had more to do with biology than disinclination. He kissed Jim on the lips, then kissed Naomi, first on her lips and then on one of her nipples. “I’ll miss you.” 

Naomi and Jim paused their movements and looked at each other, sharing perplexed eye contact between them as Amos lumbered blithely into the restroom. 

“Was he talking to…” 

“My boobs, yeah, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Huh,” said Jim. 

“He’s a big fan.” 

“That makes two of us,” he said, then resumed the gyrations of his hips as he held her breasts in his hands. She laughed. 

*

Naomi looked hot in her tight gold dress, a strapless little number that clung to her curves like it was glued down. Amos’s eyes didn’t leave her figure as she emerged from their bedroom dressed and ready to leave. 

“My eyes are up here,” she scolded. Amos looked up at her, then back down. 

“I know where your eyes are,” he said, his line of vision searing like a laser into her cleavage. She laughed and let him stare. 

“You look gorgeous, babe,” said Jim. Both he and Amos were underdressed, which was as expected. Naomi considered it a win that they were coming out at all, so she didn’t press them to get dressed up. 

The club moved to the sound of blaring music that was felt almost as much as it was heard. Flashing lights changed colors overhead in time with the pulsing beat, as strange bodies grinded together on a crowded dance floor. The vibrations were intoxicating; Naomi felt drunk even before she let a sip of liquor pass her lips. 

Jim kept a calm face for her benefit, despite his distaste for places like these, and Amos seemed unaffected as ever. Naomi knew the mechanic was averse to crowds, as he didn’t really like to be touched by anyone other than the people he trusted, so she kept a calming hand on his bicep. Besides the constant threat of being nudged, Amos seemed to fare well in bars and clubs. He preferred situations that didn’t require much talking, and felt most comfortable with the clearly-defined, uncomplicated expectations of behavior in a transactional setting. 

If she ever felt bad for dragging Jim to somewhere he didn’t want to be for a night every once in a while, she just reminded herself that he was the reason she was dragged out to rescue the Scopuli seven years earlier, and felt pretty okay about the decision. He didn’t laugh when she made that joke aloud, but Amos did. 

A few familiar faces smiled at her from the bar, and Drummer beckoned her over with a hand gesture. 

“Hey!” Naomi greeted, stretching the salutation into two long syllables, loud enough to be heard over the music, but barely so.

“Nagata,” Drummer slurred, wrapping her arms around Naomi, which meant she was already drunk. She kissed Naomi on the cheek with a loud  _ mwah _ noise, then promised her and her companions free drinks until last call. Naomi made a joke about the perks of making nice with the station’s head honcho, and Drummer waved it off with a hand gesture that feigned humility. Amos raised his eyebrows at Naomi, the teasing accusation a schoolchild would give, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Drummer acknowledged Holden with the same challenging tone she always used around him, a pointed “Jimmy” spoken sourly with one arched brow. The competition between the two was more a running joke than anything else at this point in their relationship, but it might’ve explained why Amos was so convinced she and Drummer were hooking up. 

Alex, Clare, and Bobbie were slated to meet up with them at some point, but they were yet to arrive. In the meantime, Naomi ordered a margarita for herself, what would be the first of many that night, and one for each of her boyfriends. Jim intercepted the order. 

“Make that two, please,” he said to the tall bartender, who shrugged with his hands and put away the third margarita glass. “I’ll just have a beer.”

“Party pooper.” 

“I’m never getting drunk again,” he insisted, which she doubted. She frowned, and he gave an apologetic look, then pecked the pout off her face. “But you have fun.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said. When the drinks were served, she handed one to Amos with a look that gently pressured him into taking it, and he took a swig. 

“One,” he insisted, and she nodded her agreement. She didn’t need them to get drunk with her. She could do it up, Belter-style, with Camina and the crew she had come to really like over the course of their day together. 

When the three absent members of their crew showed up not long later, Naomi was already drunk, leaning into Drummer, who was leaning into her. Most everyone on the Roci crew, like most everyone on every ship crew in space, had built up quite the tolerance to alcohol, but the natural gauntness of Belter bodies meant that Naomi was more susceptible to drunkenness than her Earther and Martian peers. Only Clarissa, whose formerly lavish lifestyle called for sipping sparkling wine more often than it called for chugging hard liquor, got drunk quicker than Naomi did, but she didn’t even arrive until Naomi was a couple of extra-strong drinks in. 

Naomi pulled away from the Belter crew and kissed each of the three newcomers— Clarissa, then Alex, then Bobbie— right on the lips in greeting before she even registered that that might’ve been a weird gesture. She might’ve been drunker than she thought. She shrugged it off, and a beat later, they shrugged it off too. 

“Maybe let’s keep the mouth-kissing to a minimum,” advised Jim. 

“That’s what your moms said,” Naomi joked. Yeah, she was definitely drunker than she thought. Jim scrunched his face up— not offended, but confused— and she shrugged. “Fine. Alex, Clarissa, I’m sorry for kissing you on the mouth.” 

“What about me?” Bobbie asked.

“I don’t know. I think we had a nice moment there.” 

“Okay,” Bobbie said, “I want some of whatever you’re drinking.” 

The crew situated themselves in a booth. Alex and Bobbie drank to catch up with Naomi (or more likely, they drank just to drink) while Clare stuck to water, apparently still nursing a relentless hangover from the night before. When Naomi joined them, she sat in Amos’s lap, which earned weird looks from both Alex and Jim. She ignored them. She was drunk enough that she could get away with it if interrogated, and also drunk enough that she didn’t care. Amos’s lap was more comfortable than Jim’s. He was big like a throne. 

The conversation might not have been as boring as she perceived it to be, but through the fun-loving lenses of her drunk goggles, they might as well have been talking about the weather, or some other Earther concept that meant nothing to her. She needed to kick it up a notch. Drummer and the others were already going wild on the dancefloor, and she felt a pang of jealousy that she wasn’t there. 

“Dancefloor,” she commanded Amos, taking his hand and pulling him in the right direction. Jim looked like he was going to say something about that, but he didn’t. Amos just shrugged and followed her. 

“Be safe!” Jim called after her. 

“Yes, dad,” she deadpanned. 

“I was talking to Amos,” he clarified. “Try to keep your pants on, big guy.” Naomi scurried back to press a kiss to Jim’s lips. 

“No promises,” she whispered in his ear, then joined Amos on the floor once again. 

Naomi was in love with the feeling of Amos’s body against hers. He wasn’t much of a dancer, just sort of swayed there when he wasn’t standing completely still with his hands on her hips. Even so, as she grinded against his warm body, the world melted away, and it began to feel like they were the only two heartbeats in the room. 

The booze raced through her veins like a slingshotter, and she grew bolder. Her inhibitions were shucked and hung at the door, and she was free of whatever responsibility or adulthood she was burdened by when the world was constantly threatening to end around her. She was allowed to be happy, and stupid, and reckless, so she would. She turned to face Amos and spoke with her lips to his ear, so only he could hear her clearly. 

“You could fuck me right here,” she said, assuming the most seductive voice she was capable of. Amos’s deep sigh told her it was either really working, or really not. His erection gave a hint toward the former, though she’d been grinding her ass against him long enough for it to be there no matter what she said. “No one would even bat an eyelash if you took me right here on the dance floor.” 

“I think Holden might have a problem with that.” 

“Let him,” she said. 

“Bobbie might be jealous now, too.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

“And Drummer. Shit, Boss, you get around.” 

“You don’t get to slut-shame me  _ and _ play with my tits. Choose wisely.” 

“You know me, I ain’t shamin’ anybody,” he said with a shrug. “Free love, or whatever. I’m still team orgy.” 

“You get Jim and the others on board, I won’t stop you.” 

“Oh, Cap wouldn’t be the holdout. He’s even sluttier than you.” 

“I’ll take second sluttiest, I’m okay with that.” 

“Third. He’ll pry first place from my cold, dead hands.”

“I don’t know,” she taunted, sing-songy, “the way Jim described it, you seemed pretty vanilla today.” 

“‘That so?” Amos said. There was something evil in it, like he was formulating a plan to prove Jim wrong. Naomi could only hope. She decided to test that theory: 

“I bet you’re too vanilla to fuck me right here on the dancefloor.” 

“Good try.” 

“I’m not wearing any panties,” Naomi tempted. The pattern of his breathing changed, and she detected some reluctance in the contortion of his face. She didn’t quite understand his pause. They didn’t dance together often, but when they did, there always seemed to be a sexual charge between them, an energy that told her Amos wanted nothing more than to take her right there and then. Now, his chance was right in front of him, and she didn’t know why he wasn’t taking it. 

“I’d rather fuck you in a bed,” he said softly. Then she remembered what they’d discussed in the bathroom of the brunch restaurant, and the hesitation started to make more sense. 

“Right. You want our first time to be special. Don’t you, big guy?” she said, a little playful mocking. Amos frowned, and then she felt bad about it. In all honesty, it meant a lot to Naomi that Amos wanted more than a dirty quickie for their first time alone together. But she was drunk, and overcome with a horniness unlike anything she’d felt before, so her capacity for sentiment was a little skewed. 

His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it affirmed her suspicion. Amos wanted to make love. She smiled. 

“Me too, baby” she assured him, and kissed the frown from his lips. He looked surprised, and glanced around the room, which was a reminder to Naomi that their little arrangement was not public knowledge quite yet. Jim would probably advise them against kissing where anyone could see them. Naomi couldn’t bring herself to care. She hooked a hand around Amos’s neck and pulled him into a deeper kiss. 

The rest of the world melted away again, and wouldn’t return. There was only light, and music, and Amos. She recalled all of the times they went dancing on the Cant— the rush of adrenaline, the taste of liquor, the compulsion to kiss Amos that she could never bring herself to act upon. Their kiss, long and languid and full of emotion, felt like the grand finale of one story and the hopeful beginning of another. 

He seemed to forget the world soon after she did, closing his eyes, pulling her close by her hips, and intensifying the kiss as if they were the only two people in the room. She felt heat on her cheeks, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say there was a harsh spotlight shining on the two of them. She opened her eyes, and the bright colored bulbs moved with the same asynchronicity as always, none particularly focused on their illicit, slutty antics. In her mind’s eye, they were center stage. 

Naomi didn’t know how much time passed. The songs all kind of blurred together, and minutes seemed to go by like milliseconds as they moved together. But at some point, Amos seemed to decide it was time to stop dancing, though Naomi felt like she could keep going for hours. He guided her to where her Belter friends were dancing. 

“Here,” he said to Camina, handing Naomi over like a gift, “babysit.” 

“M’not a baby,” Naomi protested. Then she looked at Camina, who was holding onto her now instead of Amos, and forgot what she was saying. She pressed a finger into the pale skin of Camina’s cheek, just to feel it. “You’re pretty.” 

_ “You’re _ pretty,” Camina insisted, and they both giggled. Amos wasn’t there anymore, but that was okay. Naomi danced on Camina instead. She glanced over to the booth to see if Jim was paying attention, but Amos’s big body obstructed the view. She wondered for a second what they were talking about, but decided she didn’t care.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered in her new companion’s ear, twirling her fingers through her dark hair. Camina looked nice with her hair down. Naomi didn’t know if she’d ever seen it that way before. 

“Go for it.” 

“Amos is gonna fuck me tonight,” she bragged. Camina’s face didn’t change much, like she wasn’t scandalized by the revelation. 

“Your boyfriend know?” 

“Which one?” she asked coyly. Camina nodded. 

“Secret safe with me, Nagata.” 

“I’m so happy. I’ve never been this happy.” 

“Glad, Nagata.” 

Amos came back with glass of water and a foil packet of sobriety pills, which were pretty much a universal symbol of “we’re gonna fuck tonight.” She smiled knowingly at him and clung to his body once more, winking at Camina as she popped the first pill and chased it with the water. 

“‘s Jim coming?” Naomi asked. Amos shook his head. 

“Nah,” he said. “Just you and me tonight.” 


	14. call me by my name

“Here,” Amos said to Camina, handing his dance partner off to her drunken girlfriend like baggage. “Babysit.” 

He needed Holden’s permission for what he was hopefully about to do. He found the captain in their booth next to Bobbie and no one else, tipping the lasts of a glass of whiskey into his mouth. 

“Thought you were sticking to beer,” Amos said. 

“Was,” Holden answered simply, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. 

“So… Naomi and I are heading out,” he announced. Holden’s eyes widened, and he tilted his head toward Bobbie. It took Amos a second, but he eventually figured out that probably meant he was supposed to be keeping their arrangement quiet in front of her. He didn’t like that, so he shrugged it off. 

“Are you telling me or inviting me?” Holden asked, as quiet as he could be to still be heard over the music, which wasn’t exactly the secrecy he was going for. 

“Whichever,” he shrugged, though he was dying for some alone time with her. Holden must’ve picked up on that, because he nodded knowingly like understanding some hint Amos didn’t know he’d dropped. Holden produced a foil packet from his pocket, and handed it over. 

“Sober her up a little, okay?” he said, which was his blessing. 

“Best wingman ever,” Amos responded, just to rile him up. 

“I’m not your wingman, Amos. I’m your boyfriend.” He mouthed the b-word instead of saying it, like it was some forbidden curse. Amos rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah. Wingman I get to fuck. Best wingman ever,” he doubled down. He pulled Holden into a tender kiss, and the argument was suddenly over. Holden didn’t even look toward Bobbie before, during, or after the kiss— he just leaned into it like it didn’t matter anymore that she was there.  _ Good.  _

“Alright. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, but you owe me.”

“Nah, just give us a coupla hours. You promised I’d get to fall asleep next to you every night.” 

“Right,” Holden said with a small smile, “have fun. If she doesn’t remember everything you did in the morning, I’m gonna kick your ass,” he warned. Amos laughed. 

“As much as I’d love to see you try, I ain’t gonna take advantage. Though, I got a feeling she might be disappointed about that…” he surmised as he looked over at her, moving with Drummer like they both forgot that he existed. Amos gave Holden a parting kiss, then left him to deal with however Bobbie was going to react to what she’d seen. 

* * *

They had about thirty minutes until the sobriety pill started kicking in, maybe forty-five before he could responsibly put it in her, but he didn’t mind the wait. He didn’t get many long stretches of alone time with Naomi anymore and he enjoyed her company. She was always the fun one, between herself and her boyfriend, and was especially fun with such a great deal of tequila in her. 

“Ooh,” she cooed when they passed by the same sex toy shop they’d met in a few days before, then disappeared inside before he could catch her. 

Amos followed after her, and found her looking at flogging tools. She wielded a riding crop like a fencing foil toward Amos as he approached, and he held his hands up like surrendering to the empty threat. 

“We should get this,” she said, running a fingertip over the faux-leather tongue. “For Jim.” 

“How generous,” he snarked, though he enjoyed the mental image of tender red stripes marking up the flesh of Holden’s ass. 

“He likes being spanked,” she informed him, like it was news. 

“I know.” 

“He’s weird,” she said fondly, not quite looking at Amos as she spoke. “Good weird, though, I think. Plus, you’re weird, too, which is good for him.” Amos didn’t really know what that meant, exactly, or what Naomi thought about it. He was kinky in the same ways Holden was kinky, he supposed, which must’ve been what she was getting at. 

“You’re a little weird yourself, Boss.” 

“Naomi,” she corrected insistently. “M’your girlfriend, not your Boss.” 

“What if I still want you to be my boss?” 

“Kinky,” she teased, then swatted his ass lightly with the crop. Not what he meant, but not unwelcome. 

“I just mean… I don’t know, forget it.” Naomi nodded sagely, then kissed him on the forehead. She was wise and understanding, protective of Amos’s feelings even in her drunken state. No one else was ever like that for him. She’d never stop being the person he looked up to, the person he followed, the person he needed. 

“I know what you mean, big guy. Nothing has to change. I just like it when you call me by my name.” 

“Okay, Naomi,” he said slowly, like testing it out, even though he’d said the word a million times. It felt somehow both too formal and too casual to address her as his equal, but her smile was bright and excited about it, which made it worth it. 

“You know, Jim likes it, too.” Amos thought about calling Holden ‘Jim’ on a regular basis, and shook his head in distaste. He liked the way saying it every once in a while made the captain brighten up, and preferred to keep that move in his back pocket like a weapon. 

“That’s not happening. I’m down to hit him with a riding crop, though.” Naomi laughed and spanked him with it for real, eliciting a gasp, followed by a surprised laugh. He ripped the torture device quickly out of her hand and held it up out of her reach, giggling with her as she jumped to retrieve it. 

When she finally reclaimed the toy, their hands touched and lingered there, bodies close together once again— only now in the harsh overhead light of day. The mood suddenly shifted to something much heavier, like even the gravity on the station was aware they were going to fuck in half an hour. The moment ended as suddenly as it began. 

She perused the perimeter of the sex shop, whip in hand, and Amos followed her loyally like her pet. Her attention focused on a butt plug with a long, fluffy tail attached, and her interest seemed to be piqued. 

“This could be fun,” she said, tickling Amos’s beard with the faux fur. Amos grimaced. 

“Cap would hate that.” 

“Would he hate it? Or would he just scrunch up his face all serious and pretend he did, then get super hard when you put it in him?” 

“Probably that,” he said, but took the accessory from her and replaced it on the shelf, anyway. She pouted. 

“Prude.” 

“You haven’t even used the toy you bought the other day. Let’s pace ourselves.” 

“Been distracted by a different new toy,” she said, walking her fingers over his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll use it on you in due time. Though, I do recall you complaining it wasn’t big enough.” 

“It’ll do for now,” he said. 

They bought the riding crop, and headed toward the room, anticipation building with every step. The pills were working, so he no longer had to steady her to keep her from falling over or running off again. Instead, she held his hand in her own, for no apparent reason but that she wanted to.

They left their purchase on the coffee table for the captain to find, and they made their way to the bedroom. He turned the lights on, and then she dimmed them. 

Her first move was to peel her dress from her body. The gold material glittered in his peripheral, but didn’t attract his attention as it fell to the carpet. She hadn’t lied before— she wasn’t wearing any panties, nor a bra. She was completely nude in front of Amos, himself still completely dressed. He took in the view like a connoisseur— an enthusiast admiring a lavish painting. She stood proudly, expectantly under his gaze. 

He flitted his eyes away for just a second, to look at the clock on the wall. It had been plenty long enough for the sobriety pills to kick in, and Naomi appeared to be completely clear-headed. 

He suppressed the jitters and undressed to meet her level of nakedness. He’d been on edge all night, teased and tormented by this beautiful temptress, so it took no time to bring himself to hardness, especially with the help of her outstretched hand. 

His first thought was,  _ ‘holy shit, Naomi fucking Nagata has her hand on my cock,’ _ but he decided against saying that out loud. He was in uncharted territory once again, something that had become a theme throughout the week; he’d had sex with hundreds of people, even her, but something about what was happening felt like a whole different activity— something bigger than sex, or seperate entirely. 

She must’ve picked up on his nerves, because she soothed them. 

“Relax, sweet boy,” she said as she stroked him slowly with a firm grip. “Lay down.” He did, practically stumbling backward to the edge of the bed and positioning himself on his back, his cock standing hard at attention. She seemed pleased with his immediate obedience. She laid next to him, instead of mounting him like he’d expected, curled into his side like they’d cuddled so many times before. Only now, they were naked. Now, he was allowed to touch if he wanted to, allowed to feel what he’d been craving to feel for more than a decade of friendship. 

He kept having to remind himself that he’d been inside her before, that this wasn’t even their first time. That didn’t relieve the tense feeling in his chest as she kissed his jaw. It felt like the first time, like she was expecting something from him that he didn’t know how to offer. 

For a moment, he wished Holden was there, but he couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps it was because a threesome made it feel kinky, and he knew how to do that. He knew how to be the illicit third, the dirty little secret who was only there for sex. This was something different. It was intimate. Of course, he’d been intimate with Holden earlier that day, and that went fine, so maybe that didn’t explain it away at all. 

“This is big, huh?” Naomi said. He hadn’t known she thought so, too. Suddenly it hit him, why it had been easy with Holden and so hard with her: Holden had been even more terrified than he was. Naomi made it feel like it was supposed to be easy, and he was the weirdo for fucking it up. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“Would it be easier if we skipped the talking part and I just put my pussy in your face?” 

“That’s almost exactly what I said to Holden.” 

“I know,” she admitted, “he told me.” 

“What else does he say in these secret meetings you have about me?” 

“No secret meetings. I think I made it very clear that anything you two did together was fair game for sexy storytime.” 

“Right. And anything we do tonight, he’ll hear about it?” 

“That’s generally how it goes, unless you got something to tell me he shouldn’t hear?” 

“Nah,” he said. She seemed disappointed by that. He didn’t know what she’d been looking for. 

“He told me you were gentle with him. ‘Cause he was scared. That you made him feel safe.” Amos wasn’t really known to make anybody feel safe, but he supposed that was what he did with Holden. It wasn’t some big, meaningful thing, he didn’t think. He just eased the guy through it. 

“Yeah, well. He needed that.” She nodded, and tilted his head toward hers with a gentle touch. They made eye-contact in the semi-darkness. 

“Is that what  _ you _ need?” she asked, her lips ghosting against his own, hand cupping his jaw. “To be taken care of?” He thought about it, and eventually, he gave a barely-perceptible nod. 

She leaned in to kiss him properly, slow and sensual. He kissed her back like just learning how to, open eyes seeking validation. He felt more vulnerable than he’d ever been, and he couldn’t bring himself to mind it. Gracefully, she positioned herself on top of him without breaking their connection for a second. He dared to touch her, sliding two splayed hands slowly over her sides from her hips to her breasts, then cupping them worshipfully in his palms. The kiss intensified, and his desperate cock weeped against her thigh. He ignored the complaining ache in his balls and focused on the kissing. She had other ideas. 

Naomi made her way down his body, sucking kisses down his neck, and over his torso, taking a detour to tease her teeth over the hardened peaks of his nipples. She lowered further, kissing under his navel, down the grooves of his pelvis that led like an arrow to his erection. He just laid back and let her work, watched with wide eyes and bated breath to see just what she’d do next. What she did, which he should’ve anticipated but couldn’t bring himself to even think about, was wrap those long fingers around the base of his cock, and take the tip into her mouth. 

“Holy shit,” he couldn’t help but say. She just hummed, and tongued the sensitive underside of his cockhead with firm motions. He was convinced that refraining from bucking his hips up into her mouth was the hardest and most high-stakes thing he’d ever had to do, but he kept his ass planted like it was magnetized to the sheets as she took her time with his aching hardness. One hand jerked what length her shallow sucking neglected, while the other tugged at the heavy weight of his balls. 

“You like that?” she asked, taking the moment’s break to spit in her hand and slick his length. 

“You know you don’t have to—” suddenly, she took his balls in a grip that was just slightly too firm for comfort, cutting off the end of his sentence. 

“I’m well aware,” came her authoritative voice. “You and Jim both, I swear to God. I assure you, if I thought for some reason I  _ had to _ suck your cock, you’d be making do with your right hand.” 

“Understood,” he choked out, relieved when she loosened her grasp. 

“Besides,” she said, more levity in her tone, “you both get to be cockhungry little sluts all the time. S’my turn.” He didn’t know what to say to that at all, but she didn’t wait for him to answer. She took him deeper into her mouth— sinking as low as she could go before gagging, pulling back, then restarting the process. Her slick lips accommodated his girth impressively, and soon he was slipping in and out of her mouth as she took him with ease. 

“Naomi—” he vocalized breathlessly. It was a warning. He was going to come, and he really didn’t want to do that down her throat. Not this time, anyway. She looked up at him through her lashes, then pulled off with a deliciously wet sound. Saliva still connected her lips to his cock in a pornographic string until she spoke. 

“You wanna come on my face? Send a picture to Jim?” She was joking, or at least half-joking, but the mental image was enticing. Reluctantly, he shook his head. 

“Raincheck. Wanna be inside you.” She hummed and nodded, crawling back up Amos’s body to kiss him. He tasted himself in her mouth and moaned, pressing his body against hers. She grinded against him, her wetness slicking his length as she rubbed herself over him, then used a light touch to angle his dick toward her entrance. 

He was enveloped with warmth as she sunk down, slowly, without breaking the kiss for an instant. He held her hips, trying and failing to be gentle with his grip, and pulled her close as he bucked up into her. 

They moved that way until Amos couldn’t take anymore, until he needed release like he needed to breathe. He took control for the first time and flipped them so he was on top, looking down at her surprised eyes underneath him. She giggled as she was moved like she had no weight, and wrapped those long legs around his waist to pull him closer as he continued his gyrations. The noise that escaped his lips without his permission was feral as a growl— pure, unadulterated pleasure filling the space between their faces. The kiss resumed with the same fervor, all breath and teeth and tongues colliding, and his fingers trailed down to get her off. 

He moved clumsily, eager fingers shaking over her clit with trepidation. Usually, he moved with a little more grace in the bedroom, but something about pleasing his best friend turned the skilled handyman into a petrified virgin. She’d have to forgive his lack of finesse, but she didn’t seem to even register it. He must’ve been doing something right, because she tightened in orgasm as he played with her, and he moaned with abandon as he unloaded in her quivering body.   


He didn’t pull out immediately. He tilted them so they were laying on their sides facing one another, still fully connected as he softened inside her. 

“You movin’ in?” she joked. 

“Mmm.” 

“Okay. Welcome.” 

“I love you,” he said softly. He’d never done that before, and hadn’t expected to do it then. But the emotion welled up in him until he couldn’t stop it from escaping. As soon as he’d said it, he couldn’t take it back. It was a relief to discover that he didn’t want to. Naomi smiled. 

“I love you, too,” she said. “Maybe that’s something we keep for ourselves. At least for a little while.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said. He loved Holden, too. She knew that, and he was pretty sure Holden knew that too, but he wasn’t ready to say it out loud just yet. 

He pulled out of Naomi only when it started to get uncomfortable, but neither moved to part otherwise. They just stayed in loving silence, all the pressure gone and forgotten. Amos held her tightly and closed his eyes, content to fall asleep there and never have to get up.

“You know I’m gonna have to go pee soon, right?” she broke the silence. He exaggerated the drama of his disappointment with a facetious groan. She breathed a laugh and wiggled out of his embrace. Reluctantly, he allowed her to escape. “Be right back, baby,” she said with a kiss to his lips. 

Amos checked his hand terminal, to stave off the rush of feelings that threatened to overwhelm him in Naomi’s absence. He found his distraction in the form of dozens of text messages from the person whose name in his phone was recently changed to ‘Captain Hole.’ He rolled his eyes, though he was smiling as he scrolled through them. 

“Jim’s drunk,” he informed Naomi through the door she’d left completely open. 

“Should we go rescue him?” she asked over the sound of the sink running. She emerged from the bathroom shaking water from her hands. 

“Nah. ‘Says Boobie’s got him.” 

“Boobie?” 

“‘Boobie. Asterisk, Boobie. Asterisk, Boobie. Asterisk, Bobbie. Ha ha, boobie,’” he read aloud. She laughed, and he kept reading: “‘At a diner. She got me coffee. She’s my best friend now.’ These are all separate messages, by the way.” 

“Cute. He say anything else?” she asked as she crawled back in bed. She laid her head on his chest and peeked at the conversation. 

“How much time you got?” he asked as he scrolled through the show her the laundry list of messages. She took the device from Amos’s hand, and used it to put in a request for a video connection. It connected immediately. 

“Nomi!” greeted Holden like a puppy reuniting with his owner after a long day home alone. 

“Thought you weren’t ever getting drunk again,” she said. 

“I may have misclacu… miscalclulated,” he declared. He seemed satisfied with his mispronunciation. “Are you two done having sex?” he asked bluntly. 

“Yeah, babe,” Naomi said. “Is Bobbie gonna take you home?” Holden’s eyes widened and his rosy cheeks deepened in color, misinterpreting the question. 

“What? No! It’s not like… no!” 

“Relax, sweetie. I meant, will she make sure you get here without getting yourself into trouble?” 

“Oh, yeah, think so. Can I finish my waffles first?” 

“Yes, my love. We’ll see you soon.” 

“Love you.” 

“Love you, too.” The call ended. 

Naomi curled back up into Amos’s arms, and soon she was falling asleep. Amos waited for Holden, more content than he’d ever been. 


	15. secrets

Holden and Bobbie were alone in the booth. If Alex and Clarissa had announced where they were going off to, Holden had been too focused on Naomi and Amos to catch it. He hardly even registered the large mass of his Martian companion in his periphery, but he was acutely aware that he wasn’t alone, and should probably have been embarrassed about the way he was staring. Self-awareness didn’t change his behavior. He couldn’t peel his eyes away. 

He nursed his beer from the bottle as he observed Naomi dancing up on Amos, her scantily-clad ass moving against an inevitable erection. Amos looked somewhere on the spectrum between confused and aroused— lips parted, eyes wide, cheeks blushed. Holden felt no jealousy, no longing to replace either of them. He simply enjoyed the view. If anything, he was jealous of Bobbie, because she was sipping whiskey while he was regretting his commitment to beer. 

“You just gonna sit there and let your mechanic steal your girl?” Bobbie asked, startling him.

“You’re right,” Holden snarked, “I should go beat him up.” Bobbie’s laugh might’ve been insulting if it wasn’t warranted. Holden trying to hit Amos even once would be a hilarious sight to see, and footage of it would surely be on entertainment feeds in the morning. 

“‘Could beat him up for you,” Bobbie offered. Holden couldn’t quite tell if she was being facetious. Were he a lot drunker, he might’ve been eager to find out. What he couldn’t tell her (or at least what he was pretty sure he couldn’t tell her, he seemed to be the only one preoccupied with keeping this secret) was that Amos had as much of a right to dirty-dance with Naomi as he did. He chose to pass his nonchalance off as trust. 

“Eh, let ‘em have fun. I have faith in their good judgment.” Bobbie gave him a look that said  _ really? _ , so Holden clarified: “well, I have faith in Naomi’s good judgement, and I trust Amos to defer to it.” 

“Whatever you say,” she dismissed. They both trained their eyes on Naomi like watching a strip show. Naomi turned around to face Amos, and Holden couldn’t help but imagine what she was saying in his ear. He knew from being in Amos’s position on multiple occasions that it couldn’t be rated PG. She was probably trying to convince him to fuck her in the middle of the dancefloor, her go-to move after way too much tequila. 

“They look hot together,” remarked Bobbie. 

“Yeah,” Holden agreed absently, before thinking about why that might not be the right thing to say. “I mean,” he backtracked, “if you’re into… tall people…” Bobbie just gave him a weird look, and he downed the rest of his beer nervously. 

“So you’re kind of a cuckold, huh?” she teased, sipping the last drops of whiskey from the bottom of her glass. There was no malice in the taunt, just good fun, but Holden’s cheeks warmed with blush, anyway. 

“I’m not… that.” 

“Right. So why’s Amos kissing your girlfriend?” 

Holden looked back at them, disbelieving, but it was true. Naomi’s hands were wrapped around the back of Amos’s neck, his grip tight on her hips, their bodies pressed together. They were kissing like no one was watching, like they were the only two people in the room. Holden didn’t know how he was supposed to react to that, but something about the kiss told him it wasn’t for his benefit. It was unlikely they’d even considered him for a second. 

He supposed this meant the secret was out. They could blame it on the alcohol, dismiss it as a one-off mistake, but that felt even more dramatic than the truth. No, their crew would have to know eventually, and lying would only make things harder later. Holden wished he’d gotten drunk with Naomi in the first place. He’d love to be as nonchalant about their secret as she was. 

“I… don’t have an answer to that,” he said. 

“You gonna do something about it?” she challenged. 

“You know what? Yeah,” he said, then got up from his seat. 

As he headed in Naomi and Amos’s direction, he tried to formulate some kind of response, but chickened out. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Instead, he changed course toward the bar, and bought a whole bottle of the whiskey Bobbie was drinking. 

He returned and sat down wordlessly, neither admitting defeat nor denying what she’d clearly seen. He refilled her glass, poured one of his own, and clinked the two together before downing the double-shot. He didn’t take his eyes off of his two lovers kissing as he poured himself another. Bobbie graciously said nothing, just patted his back and withheld her laughter. 

His second helping was reduced to a puddle of drops by the time Amos approached to inform him that he was leaving the bar to have sex with Naomi. Unfortunately, the booze hadn’t hit him quite hard enough yet to soften the fact that their entire conversation, including the tender kiss that preceded their parting, was held in Bobbie’s earshot. He downed another glass, throwing any promise he made to stay sober into the wind. 

He watched Amos leave with Naomi, then looked bashfully in Bobbie’s direction, unsure what to say. She didn’t pressure him to explain. Eventually, he began to feel the dizzying effects of too much alcohol too fast, and out the door with his sobriety left his humiliation. Soon, he’d completely forgotten why he had any reason to be embarrassed in the first place. Loving Amos was nothing to be ashamed of, and polyamory was a legal, normal practice. In fact, the more he thought about loving Amos and Naomi at the same time, the prouder he grew; he wanted to stand on the table and shout about it. If only he was a little less dizzy. He leaned on Bobbie for support. 

“You okay, buddy?” she asked, amused, and steadied him with a strong arm. 

“I’m in love with the guy fucking my wife,” he declared. She laughed, and he frowned. He wasn’t joking. 

“I’m happy for ya, kiddo,” she said. “Do you wanna get out of here? Talk about it?” That surprised him. Bobbie didn’t really seem like the kind of person who wanted to listen to him talk about his feelings. But she seemed bored, so maybe it was just an excuse to leave the club. Either way, he’d take it. 

“What about Clarissa and Alex?” 

“Clare has her heart set on being Alex’s wingwoman. I’ll text her where she can meet us if she gets him laid, but…” she trailed off, and Holden nodded his understanding, laughing a little at the slight. “So you wanna get food?” The question reminded Holden he hadn’t eaten since brunch that day, which explained the quick onslaught of drunken dizziness. 

“Yes, please.” 

Holden texted Amos about their whereabouts while Bobbie ordered at the diner. He kept texting, updating Amos on every thought that crossed his mind, just because he missed the guy. 

“So, how long have the three a’you been… y’know, the three a’you?” she asked. Holden tried to count the days on his fingers, but they all kind of blurred together. 

“Either three days, or a week, or seven years,” he told her. 

“Well, I guess that explains why Naomi’s been in such a good mood lately,” she supposed aloud. “We just thought you gave great head.” 

“That can also be true,” he argued, too drunk to consider how inappropriate that was to discuss with his gunnery sergeant. Though, he guessed he should be happy that Bobbie had begun to consider herself part of the family enough to make such a remark. 

“Whatever you say, Casanova.” He blushed, though the teasing was something of a relief. At least it wasn’t judgment. “Why the secrecy until now?” 

“Was waiting for the right time.”

“Why?” 

“Doesn’t this kinda change everything?” Bobbie’s brow furrowed. 

“For who?” she asked. 

“Like, the crew? Our family?” 

“Why would it? I don’t give a shit where your dick goes. Or, I guess, it’s probably Amos’s dick that does the goin’, huh?”

“I think I resent that,” he said, though he had some trouble following the sentence. She dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. 

“We all just want you to be happy. Are you happy?” 

“Yeah,” he said honestly, then gave her a small smile to prove it. “Happier than I’ve been in a while.” 

“Good. Then the rest is none of anybody’s business.” 

“I hope Alex sees it that way,” he couldn’t stop himself from saying. Bobbie’s face was confused. 

“Are you really worried he won’t? Or do you just miss having something to worry about?” Holden took a moment to marinate in the question. Maybe he was using Alex as an excuse. His instinct was to worry the pilot would feel left out, like his entire crew was part of something that he wasn’t in on. But with Clarissa and Bobbie now unofficially installed as permanent fixtures in their little found family, that wasn’t even really the case. But if Alex wasn’t the roadblock, what was? 

“My head hurts,” he said by way of an answer. Bobbie looked sympathetic. “You’re a wise one, Bobbie Draper. Could I have your coffee?” 

“Go for it.” He took the bulb from its place in front of her with two hands and brought it to his lips, the rush of hot liquid warming his whole body. 

“I gotta pee,” he announced, then kissed her on the forehead on his way to the restroom. 

“I swear, between you and Nagata, I’m getting more action tonight than I have in a month.” 

Holden didn’t pee. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and placed a call to one of his most frequent contacts. It rang and rang, and rang and rang, until it went to voicemail. 

“Hey, man,” Holden greeted the machine, his voice slurred and low. Then, he chickened out, and ended the call without erasing the message.  _ Message sent, _ read the screen. This happened three more times, all with different greetings, from ‘hey, it’s Jim,’ to ‘what’s up fucker, it’s ya boy.’  _ Message sent, message sent, message sent.  _ Finally, he sent a whole message. 

“Hey, brother,” he committed. “Uh… there’s stuff I gotta say. Which, I guess you probably assumed, since I called you in the middle of the night, uh. I know you’re busy, with, uh, her. Gettin’ laid, or whatever. Which, good for you, you know? But maybe call me back? Cool. Yeah. Love you, bye.” He was out of breath for some reason by the time he hit ‘end’ on the call.  _ Message sent.  _ He pressed his comm to his chest as he recovered, and suddenly it rang. 

“Hello?” Holden answered, as soon as he wasn’t too panicked to do so. 

“Hey. You called? Five times?” 

“Yeah. Did you get my messages?” 

“Nah, figured I’d just catch ya. Seemed urgent.” 

“It’s, um, not. Maybe just delete those?” 

“Everything okay, Hoss?” 

“Yeah, Alex, I’m alright. Drunk.” 

“Figured that one out. You call just to tell me that, partner?” 

“No. Are you alone?” he asked, unsure why. 

“I’m with Clarissa,” answered Alex. Right, Holden knew that. 

“Oh. Cool. I’m with Bobbie.” 

“I know,” Alex said, sounding like he was losing patience for Holden. 

“Naomi and Amos are having sex right now,” he blurted out. That probably wasn’t the way to go about this. Alex didn’t say anything. “Hello?” 

“Heard ya, brother. You an’ her goin’ through a rough patch I should know about?” 

“Um. No.” 

“So she’s havin’ sex with Amos and you’re, what, cool with that?” 

“Yeah. ‘Cause, see… I’m kinda having sex with Amos, too. Not right now. I’m with Bobbie right now,” he reminded Alex. “Having waffles, not sex. She’s hot, though, but not… No, ignore that part.”

“Ignored. So you’re both having sex with Amos?” 

“Not Bobbie. Me and Naomi.” 

“I got that,” said Alex. 

“We’re dating. The three of us. Me, Naomi, and Amos.” Alex went silent again, and Holden regretted not making this a video call. He couldn’t tell what his friend was thinking, and needed to know. “Not Bobbie.” 

“But she’s hot,” added Alex. Holden was pretty sure he was being made fun of. That didn’t give him the answer he sought. 

“We’re ignoring that part,” Holden insisted, coming off a little whiny. He cleared his throat and corrected his tone. “Me, Naomi, and Amos. Is that… okay with you?” Alex took too long to reply. 

“I get a say?” he finally replied. Holden furrowed his brow. 

“Not really. I mean, I can’t unfuck him. And, I don’t know. Probably wouldn’t stop if you asked me too, either.” He definitely wouldn’t, but maybe that wasn’t so kind to say. He didn’t know the etiquette of this kind of conversation, but he knew he was getting it all wrong. He should’ve done this sober. Of course he should’ve done this sober. 

“So, you’re calling to…” Alex trailed off, prompting Holden to fill in the blank. He was calling because he was a dumbass, but that didn’t answer the question. 

“Inform you?” 

“Okay. Well, consider me informed.” Holden figured he should end it there, but that didn’t feel like enough. He didn’t want Alex to begrudgingly tolerate the news, or even be ambivalent about it. He wanted Alex to be happy for him. 

“Do I have your blessing?” he found himself asking, before he even thought it through. 

“You need that?” 

“I would like it.” 

“Okay, man. You have my blessing to fuck Amos, and never tell me about it.” That arrangement worked for him. 

“Thank you. Imma go eat waffles.” 

“You have fun.” 

“Bye-bye!” 

“Bye.” 

His waffles had been served by the time he returned to the table. 

“Everything okay?” she asked. Had there been a look on his face? 

“Yeah. I called Alex.” 

“Hm?” she vocalized through a mouthful of pancake. 

“He seems cool with it.” 

“Your boyfriend and girlfriend gonna be alright with that?” she asked as soon as she’d swallowed. 

“They didn’t consult  _ me _ about telling  _ you.” _

“Fair enough.” 

“Besides, I think I was the only one who cared who knows. Not anymore. I’m happy. That’s allowed.” 

“Yeah, it is,” she said with a supportive smile, then shoveled another bite into her mouth. 

The rest of their conversation was either unmemorable, or he’d been too drunk to remember it. He remembered receiving a video call from Naomi, then didn’t remember being escorted home. He remembered Bobbie being in the living room with him, sitting him down to practically chug a pitcher of water with electrolyte powder, promising him he’d regret it in the morning if he didn’t stay hydrated. He remembered a riding crop on the coffee table that he didn’t remember buying, and he remembered her expression upon seeing that, though his addled brain couldn’t decipher its meaning. He didn’t remember her leaving, but he knew that she left. He remembered getting in bed, crawling into his spot next to Amos, and burying himself in warmth.

“Fun night?” came Amos’s teasing voice, startling him. Naomi was asleep. Holden thought Amos would’ve been, too. It was a pleasant surprise, because it meant he got kisses. He took them graciously. 

“You waited up?” said Holden. 

“Hate to miss out on drunk Jim,” he said. 

“No,” Holden insisted. His tone was accusatory, but only in a teasing way. “You wanted to make sure your baby boy got home safe, you big softie.” He poked a pointed finger into Amos’s belly to emphasize the allegation. 

“That, too.” Holden smiled and placed a wet kiss in Amos’s beard, earning a deserved grimace. 

“Did you guys have fun?” Holden asked, his unsubtle way of prompting Amos to divulge the details of his night with Naomi. Amos either didn’t get the hint, or chose not to take the bait. 

“Yep.” Holden pouted, so Amos gave him an inch. “She gives better head than you.” 

“Guess I need more practice,” Holden teased, his hand trailing down to cup Amos’s soft cock. To his disappointment, the advance was thwarted by a gentle swat. 

“Not tonight, babe.” 

“But I need teaching,” he enticed, blinking innocently up at Amos through his lashes. “Train me to suck you.” Amos groaned, and Holden knew his efforts were making an impact. 

Amos forced Holden onto his side and collected him into a firm embrace. It was the most aggressive spooning maneuver he’d ever been a part of. 

“Good night, little hole,” said Amos, meaning ‘stop trying to start shit.’ Holden sighed, and resigned, closing his eyes and wiggling to get comfortable. He’d thought it was the end of it, until Amos whispered in his ear: “you know, next time you get shitfaced, I ain’t gonna work so hard to keep myself from takin’ advantage.” A thrill ran through Holden’s body, like the words entered through his ear and burrowed down to his toes. 

“Love it when you threaten me,” he admitted. “Wish you weren’t all talk.” 

“Careful what you wish for, I might not be,” warned Amos. Holden rolled his eyes. 

“No. You’d never take advantage, it’s not in you. Next time I get drunk, which is never,” he claimed with a finger pointed in the air emphatically, “you’re gonna hold me like this, and you’re gonna pretend you just wanna put your dick in me, but you’re really just gonna take good care of me. ’Cause you love me.” Amos gave his whole body a pleasant squeeze, and kissed him on the neck. 

“Yeah, baby boy. You’re right.” 

Holden would definitely remember  _ that.  _


	16. three (again)

Amos fell asleep to the harmonious sounds of Naomi and Holden’s breathing, and slept soundly through the night. 

He woke up surrounded by the same slumbering bodies he’d fallen asleep next to, and felt a sudden rush of warmth. Sobriety pills have a drowsing effect, same as alcohol, so he expected the two to be knocked out for quite some time. After basking for a little longer than he’d admit out loud in the serenity of sharing the space, he maneuvered Holden’s sleeping body to press against Naomi’s so they wouldn’t wake up uncuddled, and left to shower and make breakfast. 

Sausage heated on a burner, pancake batter awaited cooking, the smell of coffee wafted through the place as Amos poured himself a bulb. There came a knock on the door. 

“Since when do you knock?” Amos asked as he permitted Alex’s entrance, immediately then returning to the kitchen to ensure the sausage didn’t burn. He poured a second bulb and extended it to his friend, who accepted with a thankful nod. 

“Since when do you sleep in Holden’s room?” he retorted. Amos offered no explanation. Alex didn’t need one. 

“Touche. You want breakfast? Everybody’s still sleepin,’” he informed. 

“I’ll bet. Big night, last night,” said Alex. Amos detected hostility in his tone, but couldn’t place a reason for it. 

“You got somethin’ to say about it, Martian?” 

“Guess I don’t,” he said, which meant he did, but Amos didn’t owe it to him to wring out the truth. If Alex had a problem, he’d have to grow up and vocalize it. Amos didn’t wait for a response to the question he actually wanted answered, which was whether or not Alex wanted breakfast, he just got to serving it. Over the sound of pancake batter sizzling onto the griddle, Amos asked: 

“Did Bobbie tell you about it?” 

“Bobbie knew?” asked Alex, looking something like hurt. 

“It ain’t like we sat down and told her or nothing. We just weren’t all that discrete. Why are you being a baby about it?” 

“I’m not. I just didn’t even know you had feelings for Holden.” 

“I didn’t even know I had feelings. Since when do I gotta tell you about that shit?” 

“You don’t.” Amos handed a loaded plate to Alex, who took it to the table to sit down. Amos filled his own, set the burner to warm, and followed suit. 

“How did you even find out? Jim said he was waiting for the right moment or something.” 

“Guess the right moment was as soon as he got shitfaced.” He played the voicemail Holden left, which made Amos smile. _ Someone’s gotta start taking that kid’s phone away,  _ he thought. “The phone call afterwards was… enlightening. Did you know he’s got a crush on Bobbie?” 

“Who doesn’t got a crush on Bobbie?” Amos asked. Alex gave a look that acknowledged the validity of Amos’s point, but didn’t agree out loud. “I ain’t jealous. Everyone’s got at least one friend they’d bang if they got the chance.” 

“Interesting theory,” said Alex. Amos hoped that was the end of the why-didn’t-you-tell-me discussion. It appeared to be so. 

“No theory. I ain’t one of those lab coat-wearing fuckers, I just got eyes. Holden and you got Draper, Naomi’s got Drummer, Peaches has me—” 

“Wait,” Alex interrupted, “you think Clarissa’s into you?” 

“Not  _ into _ me. M’not talkin’ feelings. I think she’d do me if I asked. Platonically, or whatever.” Alex looked unsure about that. 

“Whatever you say. Who’s Bobbie’s?” Alex asked. 

“Not you, brother,” he said. Alex threw a link of sausage at him. “My money’s on Chrissie.” 

“As in, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Chrisjen Avasarala?” 

“Yup,” Amos affirmed, eating the sausage Alex tossed. 

“I think your theory has holes.” 

“Think whatever you want, I’m right.” 

“So if everyone’s got one, who’s yours? Holden?” 

“Holden ain’t my friend, and it ain’t platonic,” he said. Alex looked at him like that was some big admission. Maybe it had been. 

“Who then? It’s not me, right?” he said tentatively. Amos rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, baby, it is. Come here, kiss me,” he snarked, making kissy lips at Alex’s grimace. “Let’s bang, right here.” 

“Please don’t,” said Naomi as she entered, wiping sleep from her eyes and moving in pursuit of tea. Amos had already brewed it for her. When she’d successfully acquired the caffeine, she asked: “what are you two even talking about?” 

“Which of our friends Amos would screw,” Alex answered. “Platonically, if they asked,” he added. 

“Oh, easy,” Naomi said from the kitchen as she made herself a pancake. Her nonchalance surprised Amos, though he supposed he should know by now she was cool. “All of them. At the same time, if he had his way.” 

“She knows me well,” Amos affirmed. 

“Yeah, well count me out of the orgy,” said Alex. “Especially considering that there weapon you’ve got on the coffee table.” 

“You should see the weapon I’ve got in my—” 

“Amos,” Naomi warned, while Alex sat uncomfortably and cleared his throat. She took her place next to Amos at the table. “Sorry about that, Alex. We weren’t expecting company. Amos, would you put the crop away?” 

“Sure,” he said, and got up to obey. “Should I put it in the drawer with your strap-on? Or take it all the way to the sex torture dungeon on the Roci?” 

“Very funny.” 

Amos took the crop to the bedroom, along with a pitcher of water and a pill that he knew Holden would need upon waking up. He placed the hangover relief on the bedside table, and took a second to admire the view of his boyfriend sleeping on his stomach, the enticing curve of his round ass completely on display. He decided he wanted Holden to be awake now, so he expedited that process with the help of his brand spanking new torture device. 

“Morning, sunshine,” cheered Amos as Holden groaned, either from the flogging or the headache, or a combination of both. 

“Do that again,” said Holden as soon as he regained his composure. Amos just smirked. 

“Drink some water, we’ll play later. We’ve got company.” 

“Company?” Holden asked. Amos just lumbered out of the room. 

“What’d I miss?” Amos asked as he returned to the table and reclaimed his place among the laughing pair. 

“Alex was telling me more about this theory you have,” Naomi told him. “I don’t know if I buy it.”

“What don’t you buy?” 

“Well, first of all, I don’t think Clarissa Mao would have sex with you.” 

“Agree to disagree.” 

“Okay. I also don’t think Jim would have sex with Bobbie.” 

“That’s just blatantly false.” 

“You really think the only thing stopping our boyfriend from cheating on both of us with Bobbie Draper is her total, undisguised disinterest?” she asked with wide eyes. 

“Nah, Cap ain’t a cheater. I’m jus’ sayin’ the only thing stoppin’ him is emotions and shit. Same reason I’m like seventy percent sure you ain’t done it with Drummer yet.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” dismissed Naomi, which was pointedly not a denial. “Why are you so insistent that I have sex with Camina Drummer?” 

“Because I want you to have everything you want,” he said plainly. She made a surprised face, and then smiled. 

“I already do, my love,” she said, then kissed him. Just then, Holden made his grumbly way into the room. 

“So we’re just doing that in front of everyone now?” asked Holden. 

“Yeah, little hole,” said Amos, then patted his lap. “C’mere, give Daddy a kiss.” 

“I’m not calling you Daddy,” he said to Amos, then to Alex: “I don’t call him Daddy.” 

“None of my business,” Alex said. “Should I leave?” 

“No,” said Holden. “Stay, Amos will behave. I need coffee. Then we should probably talk.” 

“Sit, bug,” said Amos, “I’ll make you a plate.” He had, after all, intended to make breakfast for Jim and Naomi, though that didn’t exactly go as planned. He made two pancakes and plated them with sausage, all while listening to the conversation that followed. 

“I thought we got all the talking done last night,” Alex said.

“We talked last night?” Holden asked. 

“You called.” 

“Shit, I gotta stop doing that.” 

Alex then described to all three of them the contents of their phone call, which made both Amos and Naomi crack up laughing. Holden gave no audible reaction, though Amos could picture him turning pink and sinking into his seat.

“Well, I guess I’m glad that’s over with. You really cool with it all?” Holden asked. Alex rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, Hoss. S’long as I don’t have to hear you call him ‘Daddy.’”

“Seconded,” said Naomi. 

“Trust me, you won’t.” 

“You’re all prudes,” Amos said as he returned with a plate, a coffee, and a kiss for Holden. 

The rest of breakfast went by like nothing had changed, which is exactly what Amos had expected, though he couldn’t have convinced Holden of that. Amos let a hand rest on Holden’s thigh, comforting the captain as his family mocked him for his drunken antics. He didn’t let go even when the ridicule shifted focus toward himself, as Alex and Naomi explained his little ‘theory’ to Holden. 

“Okay, okay,” Holden said as he processed it all, “so basically what you’re saying is, everyone has a hot friend? That’s not news. All of our friends are, like, unrealistically hot. Like, TV show-level hot. It doesn’t mean we’re all harboring secret sexual fantasies about one another.” 

“I didn’t say it was a secret,” Amos explained. He was getting a little sick of the conversation; everyone was treating him like he accused them of something, when he’d really just offhandedly pointed out a pattern. The way he saw it, there was nothing wrong with a little fantasy. In fact, he encouraged his lovers to fantasize about other hot people, as long as they shared with him the dirty little details. 

“So, assuming you’re right about Clare wanting to bone you, and Bobbie wanting to bone the Secretary General of the United Nations, which I still think are wild assumptions, that means everyone has somebody specific except you,” Naomi pointed out. It was an interesting notion, one Amos hadn’t given much thought to. When Amos could actually be bothered to pay attention to the little nuances of human behavior, he usually didn’t count himself as a viable test subject. He was interested in the patterns of regular people, so he could determine how best to emulate them. Amos was a statistical outlier, and shouldn’t be counted. 

“So you admit you want to bone Camina Drummer?” he decided to say, instead of answering the question. 

“I’ll admit it could be fun, and nothing else,” she said. “Your turn, and ‘orgy’ is a copout.” He thought on his feet, and came up with something that would appease her. 

“Easy. Avasarala.” 

“You two are friends?” Holden asked. 

“I like to think so. Anyone want more pancakes?” 

That conversation ended there. 

* * *

As soon as Alex left, a weight seemed to be lifted off of Holden’s shoulders. He curled up like a kitten in Amos’s lap on the couch, seeming fully cured of his nasty hangover. 

“You feel better now that it’s out in the open?” Amos asked, stroking his pet’s back. 

“Clarissa still doesn’t know,” he pointed out. 

“I’m sure Bobbie’ll catch her up for us.” 

“No, that’s not fair,” protested Holden, to Amos’s continued frustration. “We’ll have dinner tonight, all six of us. Make sure everyone’s on board.” Amos didn’t know why anyone else needed a say, but he didn’t argue. “Since when do we have a riding crop?” 

“Since Naomi got drunk and insisted you’d like it,” Amos explained, appreciating the change of subject. 

“Mmm,” he purred, trailing kisses over Amos’s neck. “I do.” 

Just then, Naomi emerged from the bedroom with the object of their conversation in hand, though that wasn’t the focus of Amos’s attention. Instead, his eyes followed the path paved by the straps of her lingerie— from the over-shoulder straps that bore the weight of her breasts in the black lace cups of her basque, down the straps that clipped to her black stockings, all the way down to the straps of her heels. Holden’s gaze, presumably familiar with the breathtaking sight, was laser-focused on a different strap, the one that nestled between her legs like it had a home there. She stroked the sparkly purple toy with her free hand as both boys watched speechlessly. 

“You comin’,? Or am I gonna have to pull you on leashes?” Holden scrambled to his feet. Amos stayed still, staring. “Go strip, puppy,” Naomi said to Jim. “Wait on all fours.” He hurried to obey, leaving the two alone. 

She approached him slowly, confidently, allowing him to take in the view. 

“Second thoughts, baby?” she asked. He shook his head. “Then what’s on your mind?” 

“You look…” 

“Hmm?” 

“Pretty,” he said, then mentally kicked himself for it. She graciously pretended it had been the right thing to say. 

“Thank you, Amos.” 

“Didn’t know you had outfits like that,” he said softly. 

“Just the one. Usually reserve it for Jim’s birthday.” 

“Shit, wish I knew when my birthday was.” 

“I’m sure we’ll find a reason to celebrate, anyway. You gonna come help me peg our pet?”

“Yeah,” he said, but didn’t move. “Let me look at you for a little while longer?” She held her arms out, as if to say ‘go ahead.’ 

“Come on,” she prompted after a long moment, “you can look all you want when you’re in his mouth and I’m in his hole.” 

“Yes, mistress.” 

“None of that.” 

Holden looked perfect— and perfectly obedient— on his hands and knees, though even that couldn’t quite hold Amos’s attention. He was practically salivating over Naomi, trailing behind her to watch how her hips swayed as she walked, miles and miles of legs elongated still by the vertical seam on the back of her hose, and the height of her stiletto. He thought absently that the piercing stab of that shoe to a vital organ would be a pleasant way to die. 

“Eyes on Jim,” she commanded, spanking the captain’s ass with the crop to draw Amos’s attention to it. It was ineffective. “I won’t hesitate to blindfold you, baby. Watch our pet, or don’t watch at all. Puppy, present that hole.” Holden obeyed, steadying himself on the side of his face as his hands occupied themselves spreading his cheeks. Amos honed in on the sweet furl of his asshole, resisting the urge to look to Naomi for his next instruction. 

“So pretty,” he praised. 

“Why don’t you get a taste, before you and I ruin that perfect little pucker?” Amos nodded and hurried to do as he was told, his already-hard cock twitching in his sweats in response to being bossed around. “And get those clothes off already. You’re not the only one who appreciates a pretty view.” 

Amos removed his pants and boxers as he ate Holden out with enthusiasm, and only paused in his efforts to let his shirt pass over his head and onto the floor. Naomi hummed in admiration, and let the leather tongue of the riding crop trail down the curve of Amos’s spine. He arched his back, showing off his ass for her and inviting a spanking of his own, though it didn’t come. Instead, the ghost-like tip of a slender finger rubbed over his hole. 

“Don’t think this tight little plaything isn’t next,” she warned. Amos was already beyond prepared to beg for it, but as quickly as that finger appeared, it was gone. Amos closed his eyes as he licked and sucked at Jim’s delicious hole, and tried desperately to recreate the marvelous visage of his dominatrix in his mind, though his imagination didn’t do her justice. Amos had never been jealous in his life, but he found himself wishing he could be in Holden’s position, getting to see whatever the fuck Naomi was up to out of his line of sight. He focused his energy on giving Holden the best rim job of his life, pointing his tongue and sneaking it inside as the muscles loosened to allow entry, hoping his efforts would be rewarded with a sneak peek at the tits behind those lacy black curtains. 

“Get that hole nice and loose for me,” Naomi said, offering him their bottle of lube. He heard the sound of the bed squeaking under her weight from in front of Holden, who resumed his position on his hands and knees, which he assumed meant she was getting ready to give him a mouthful of silicon. For the second time in his life, he raged with jealousy. In what was admittedly a misappropriation of that feeling, he shoved two fingers into Holden without lube or warning. The loud groan that followed informed him that Cap’s mouth was still empty, and the gagging sound that followed  _ that  _ let him know that it was no longer. Naomi seemed to waste no time letting Holden get used to the size or the plastic taste before fucking his skull in earnest. Amos was almost proud. 

Amos took pity on the abused body before him and lubed three fingers, taking his time with the final preparations before Naomi had her brutal way with his hole. He tried to keep his eyes on the gorgeous stretch of that pliable rim, but he longed to take in the sight of Naomi grinding wildly into her obedient pet. 

“Naomi?” he asked, eyes down. 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“Can I please look at you?” 

“Hmm,” she teased. “You can look at my face, but not my tits. Can you manage that, horny boy?” 

“No,” he grumbled. 

“Then you’ll wait,” she said. He pouted, but continued scissoring his digits until Holden was properly stretched. He pulled his fingers out, marveled at that gaping hole as it winked closed. 

“He’s ready for you,” he informed her, then placed a kiss on one globe of pale flesh to say ‘good luck.’ 

“Thank you, baby. Okay, you can look at me.” Immediately, his eyes met hers, then drifted downward. She didn’t move from her position, though she halted her thrusts, let her eager puppy kiss and lick and suck as he pleased as she ran her fingers through his curls. Holden looked up at her with wet eyes as he worshiped her plastic cock as if it really gave her any pleasure. It seemed to amuse her, at least. 

“So hungry, puppy,” Naomi cooed. “How ‘bout we feed you something real?” Holden pulled off with a wet  _ pop _ and nodded at her. “Use your words, little one.” 

“Yes, please,” he spoke for the first time. His voice was raspy and ruined. “Wanna suck Amos while you fuck me, Naomi.” 

“Give the good boy what he wants,” Naomi said to Amos as she maneuvered to switch positions with him. Amos took advantage of the opportunity to watch her move. She gave him a kiss as they passed each other, then lubed up her fake cock as Amos fed his balls into Holden’s mouth. 

“Cock, please,” requested Holden. It was almost cute enough for Amos to give him what he asked for, but not quite. 

“Take what you’re given.” Amos couldn’t help but lean on the domineering side when it came to Holden. The man was a target just begging to be dominated, and Amos couldn’t deny that to him. Holden nodded with pouty lips, then sucked Amos’s balls like he was told. When his attention refocused on Naomi, she was unclipping the garter straps from her stockings, and removing her top completely. Amos was mesmerized. 

Suddenly in a generous mood, he let Holden suck his cock in earnest— not fucking his face, but allowing him to choke himself if he so chose. Of course, he so chose. Sloppy and starving, Holden took Amos as far as he could and then farther, gagging all the way. 

“Go ahead, you can take it deeper,” Amos coaxed, though he knew Holden couldn’t, just to get him trying. “Good boy,” he praised Holden for his efforts. 

Like as a treat, Naomi chose that moment to shove inside, and she and Amos made loaded eye contact and they shared him, each thrusting into his body like it was a doll designed for this purpose alone. 

“Such a good slut for us, Jim. You like being used from both ends, little pup?” Amos pulled out to let Holden answer, slapping his slobbery, leaking cock against his face as he spoke. 

“Yes, Naomi. I like being an obedient little puppy for you,” he said. So he’d apparently come around on the puppy-play thing. Maybe they should’ve gotten him a tail, after all. Holden nuzzled against the length of Amos’s cock and asked: “Amos, will you kiss me?” 

“Aw, sweetie,” Amos condescended, hooking a finger under Holden’s chin and tilting his head up. He bent over so their lips could almost meet. “You don’t get to make requests.” He shot back up and returned his cockhead to its rightful place at the back of Holden’s throat. 

“So mean, Amos,” said Naomi. “You better watch out, he might not be so merciful when you’re in his position.” 

“I’m not worried. The only dominant bone in Holden’s body is mine.”

“Please, you’re just as submissive. Just more bratty,” she accused. 

“Yeah, maybe,” he digressed. “Guess you’ll have to put me in my place.” 

“Tempting,” she said, sinister like concocting some kind of scheme. “For another time. Right now, your place is inside this pretty ass. Jim clearly needs something bigger.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to her side and kissed her again, this time taking a long while to savor the connection as she pulled out. “Maybe one of these days we’ll double-stuff this hole, see just how much he can take.” Holden moaned, loud and luxurious now that his mouth was free to let it out, so he must’ve been on board. Amos replaced her fake cock with his real one, sliding easily into the sloppy entrance. 

Naomi unstrapped the harness from her body and discarded it on the mattress, leaving her naked save for the stockings and heels. Amos liked that look, too— still dolled up, but nothing covering the parts Amos most wanted to see. She spread her legs at the headboard, and Holden didn’t need to be ordered to lick her. She didn’t scold him for his preemptiveness, like Amos would’ve, but he imagined she’d been on edge for a long time. He would’ve splurged for a harness that offered some pleasure to her as well as her partner, but he didn’t get to be part of that decision-making process. Amos didn’t think he’d be able to last much longer, but he wasn’t about to come without permission. 

“Naomi?” 

“Yes, my love?” she said, a little winded already. Amos had to hand it to their slutty sub, he was damned good with that tongue. His throat still needed a little breaking in, but he knew his way around a hole. 

“Can I come?” 

“Hmm…” she started, then got distracted. Amos couldn’t tell if it was a purposeful tease, but it was an effective one. 

“Please, Naomi, can I come in this tight little hole?” 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asked, which didn’t bode well for him. He’d cruelly denied Holden what he wanted, then insisted he was incapable of dominance. He wouldn’t blame Holden for a second if he made him wait it out. 

“Can I come in you, little bug?” 

“Yes, please.”  _ Well, that was easy.  _

Holden was a perfect little cumdumpster for him. Amos gripped each of his lover’s thighs in a big paw and yanked him close, pushing and pulling, using Holden’s body to coax out waves of pleasure. His orgasm crashed over his body like a tsunami as he came, flooding that starving hole, then pulling out to admire the wreckage. 

“Mmm, thank you baby,” Amos said. Holden didn’t answer, just kept working at his task of getting Naomi off, and Amos waited for an instruction that never came. When it became clear Naomi had forfeited her duties as Domme to indulge herself under Holden’s tongue, Amos made the executive decision to crawl up and kiss her. 

“Mmm, you’re not off the hook just yet,” she said lazily. “We have to let our puppy come eventually.”

“Don’t have to,” Amos denied. Holden hit Amos on whatever body part was closest to him, which was his thigh, and whined. Amos chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll let you hump my leg.” Holden whined again, this time to Naomi, who was much more merciful than he was. He liked that about her. 

“C’mere, Jim. The big, bad man can sit on his hands and watch you fuck me.” Amos didn’t say so, but that was fine by him. He was spent already, would be for quite a while, and content as long as he got to look at Naomi and Jim. 

He liked the way the two of them moved together, like they belonged— two people who knew exactly how to excite one another. Holden caught Naomi’s earlobe between his teeth and pulled, making her giggle. Naomi scratched her nails down Holden’s back, making him shiver. Holden whispered ‘I love you’ into her mouth, bit her lip, and kissed her, and the breathy way she spoke his name in response translated to ‘I love you, too.’ Maybe that was why Holden was so insistent on hearing Amos call him Jim: in their language, it was so much more than a name. Amos felt like he was getting to behold something sacred. They came together, her and then him, an avalanche of ecstasy followed by a spell of happy giggles. 

Holden whispered something in Naomi’s ear that Amos didn’t catch. She rolled her eyes playfully and nodded. 

“Alright, c’mere, baby,” she beckoned to Amos. “You can eat his come outta me, just this once.” Surprised and delighted, Amos nodded gratefully and went to town, lapping gently like a kitten, then sucking with all the fervor he could muster. Naomi whined above him, over-sensitive from the stimulation, and he let his hand slide up her stomach and between her breasts. 

“My dirty boys,” she praised when his mission was accomplished. “Kiss for me?” Amos and Holden happily obeyed, swapping Holden’s come between them until it was all swallowed, then continuing to kiss just because they liked kissing each other. 

When all three of them were spent, Holden curled up between his owners and sighed contentedly. Naomi unstrapped her shoes and shucked the stockings from her legs, tossing the garment away to be dealt with later, probably by Amos. 

“Was that everything you wanted it to be, Jim?” Naomi asked. 

“Poor flogger didn’t get much use…” 

“Note taken,” she said. Holden shook his head. 

“It was perfect, Naomi,” he backtracked, “thank you.” 

“What about you, Amos? Too vanilla for your tastes, too?” 

“Was fuckin’ awesome, Boss. Next time I get pegged.” 

“Deal,” she said, and got up to go to the bathroom, which left Holden and Amos alone again. Holden whined as she abandoned him, then consoled himself by cuddling closer to Amos. 

“Hey, Jim?” said Amos, suddenly more nervous than he’d ever been. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know I love you, right?” he asked softly. Holden kissed him, and smiled. 

“I do now.” 


	17. no secrets

Jim insisted that the whole crew got together to talk, so they did. The six met at one of Alex’s favorite places, a Tex-Mex style restaurant whose cuisine attempted to resemble the recipes brought to Mariner Valley by Texan settlers generations before. As they passed the ordering terminal around the corner booth, Clarissa and Jim bonded over remarking upon how the choices differed from real North American food, and Alex and Bobbie bonded over remarking upon how they differed from real Martian food. Naomi just thought tacos sounded good, and didn’t have a frame of reference for how they were supposed to be, but she had a feeling that both parties were some level of wrong about it. 

“So, Holden… did you bring us all here so you could fuck Naomi in the bathroom again? I’m not kink-shaming but I’d prefer not to be involved,” Clarissa teased once the terminal clock began counting down to when their order would be served. Naomi wasn’t embarrassed by the remark— she was more endeared that Clare was comfortable enough with them to make it— but Jim clearly was. 

“Nah, this time he’s sneaking off with Amos, aren’t you Hoss?” Alex chimed in. He and Bobbie laughed, as did Naomi and Amos, though Jim’s frown only deepened, and Clarissa looked confused or surprised. 

“Hope so,” said Amos in that jovial tone, practically leering as he looked Jim over. “Whadya say, Hole? Round two?” Jim grimaced and sunk a little in his seat. Amos ruffled his hair. 

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me ‘Hole,’ Amos,” the captain grumbled. 

“Why? It’s short for Holden. What else would it mean?” Amos challenged with a smirk, feigning innocence. Jim elbowed him. Bobbie and Alex swallowed their laughter. 

“Since when are you two…” Clarissa started, then trailed off, either because she didn’t know what it was, or didn’t want to say it. Naomi cleared her throat and spoke sheepishly. 

“Us three, actually. It’s new,” she informed. Clarissa digested that information with a shocked expression, then quirked her eyebrows and lips in a way that seemed to reluctantly say, _‘I suppose it makes sense.’_

“Guess that explains the good mood, Nagata,” she said, shrugging off any shock or judgment. 

“That’s what I said!” Bobbie added. Clarissa laughed. 

“Told you there was no way Holden was _that_ good,” Clare said to Bobbie. Naomi didn’t know at what point the two of them became such besties, but it warmed her to see it. They were all really becoming a family. It was why Naomi shrugged off the teasing easily, welcomed the playfully judging remarks from the two of them and Alex. That’s what brothers and sisters were for.

“I assure you Jim’s not slacking in any department,” she insisted. 

“‘Cept height,” clarified Amos, ruffling Jim’s hair. Jim glared at him, and the apology came in the form of a peck on the cheek. Jim, being the petulant brat he was, made a performance of wiping the kiss from his skin, so Amos put another peck on top. Naomi couldn’t tell if the gesture came from a place of genuine affection, or a simpler desire to embarrass Jim in front of his subordinates, but she assumed it was a combination of the two impulses. Whatever it was, it was cute. 

“Why’s everyone ganging up on me lately?” Jim pouted. 

“We just figured that’s what you’re into,” joked Alex. Jim’s glare found a new home in his direction. “Besides, Naomi and Amos aren’t as fun to make fun of.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” he asked. Alex shrugged, so Bobbie chimed in. 

“Well Amos has no shame,” she said, a statement which everyone visibly agreed with, including Amos himself. “and Naomi’s…” she trailed off. 

“...Cooler than you,” Clarissa supplied. Everyone visibly agreed with that, too, though Naomi tried to look humble as she did so. The assessment was fair enough. James Holden had a lot of very positive attributes, _coolness_ just wasn’t at the top of the list. His dorkiness was sexy, though. 

“I think you’re the coolest, babe,” she lied to him with a reassuring smile. He saw through it. 

“Great, thanks,” deadpanned Jim. “So… I’m assuming the gentle bullying means everyone’s okay with it all? No grievances to air out?” 

“Yes, Holden,” both Alex and Bobbie said at the same time, while Clarissa just shrugged to indicate it didn’t matter to her. Naomi and Amos had expected exactly that level of investment, but Jim had insisted the question needed to be asked.

“So are we good now, Cap? Or do we need to call up Monica Stuart, give ‘er an exclusive?” 

“I think we’re good, Amos,” said Jim.

“You sure? ‘Cause we can get Christmas cards made up, send ‘em to Chrissy and Fred, make sure they’re in the loop.”

“Prax might wanna know, while we’re sending postcards,” Naomi chimed in. Jim looked like she kicked his puppy, but she didn’t relent. “Pastor Anna, too.” 

“You heard from Elvi Okoye in a while?” Alex contributed. “Sure she’d appreciate the update.”

“It’d be nice to catch up with Lucia, while we’re reaching out,” Naomi added on. Amos gave her the same look he gave when she spoke of Camina Drummer, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You could always pull the old classic, send out a broadcast to the entire system,” Bobbie offered. They all cracked up at that. 

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jim resigned. “How dare I lead with honesty and transparency? Next time I’ll tell you nothing, I promise.” 

“Are we planning on there being a ‘next time’? I don’t know if I can handle a third husband,” said Naomi. Amos looked at her like he was confused, surprised, or simply affected by the word choice. She hadn’t meant to make some huge declaration by calling Amos and Jim her _husbands,_ but _boyfriends_ didn’t feel big enough. As soon as it was said, she worried it would send her new lover running, but it appeared to have no such effect. In fact, Amos seemed pleased by the label, smiling ever-so-slightly like he didn’t want her to detect that his expression changed. When he spoke, he didn’t acknowledge the little moment they’d shared. 

“Then we’ll have to get another girl,” he joked. “Peaches? You busy?” She flipped him off. “Bobbie?” 

“I’m second choice?” Bobbie questioned, pretending to be offended. 

“Less likely to say yes,” was his explanation. Clare and Bobbie looked at each other, both confused by that statement, though Bobbie seemed to agree with it more than Clare did. They shrugged it off, which meant they were quickly learning the crew’s strategy for dealing with Amos: don’t interrogate anything he says too hard.

“Oh, well. Looks like you’re stuck with just the two of us, Boss.” 

“Good,” she said, and leaned into him. 

When their food arrived, Amos recognized one of the servers. 

“Hey, you,” he said to the curly-haired boy. The Belter’s eyes squinted, like he was trying to figure out where he knew Amos from, then widened when it dawned on him. 

“Fisher-man,” the kid greeted. He must’ve been in his mid-twenties. Naomi didn’t know when she started regarding twenty five year olds as ‘kids.’ Belters had little use for such trivial things as birthdays, but the past seven years of her life seemed to have aged her at least twice that. 

“Fisher-man?” she questioned. Amos shrugged. 

“He hook me, he throw me back,” the boy explained. Naomi still didn’t quite get it, though she understood there was a sexual history there. Did Amos fuck this guy and never call him back? Amos wasn’t the kind of guy who made promises to call after. She didn’t have a better explanation. 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he said. So at least Amos understood the riddle. Everyone at the table looked as confused as Naomi was, but Amos did nothing to alleviate that. 

“No hard feelings, big tipper. Not above get paid for nothing. Better than fill in for boyfriend at Duster food place,” he said with a gesture to the restaurant, which indicated that was what he was doing there. Amos breathed a polite laugh, and nodded his agreement. Whatever Amos had done to slight their server seemed to be forgiven. When their plates were all served, the boy didn’t leave. “This boyfriend you buy chocolate for?” he asked, pointing to Jim. Why did this guy know about that? They’d met that recently? When? 

“Yeah, that’s Jim,” Amos said, which seemed to be meaningful for some reason. The boy nodded sagely. 

“Ah. Explains.” Naomi cleared her throat. She didn’t know why she felt like she needed to be introduced to this stranger, but she didn’t like that Jim had been and she hadn’t. 

“And this is my wife, Naomi,” Amos said with a proud smile. She blushed at the label, but didn’t correct him. “Naomi, this is Jimi.” 

“Fo keng to im gut,” she said to him in greeting, suppressing her surprise at his name. Jimi brightened up as she spoke to him in their native language. 

“Kewe kowlting ando go, sesata?” 

“Kowlting gut,” she answered. She still didn’t know who the guy was, but the fact that no one explained led her to believe it wasn’t something she should ask. Instead, she waited until he disappeared into the kitchen with an ‘enjoy your meal’ to her in Belter, and the same to the table in English, then said: “okay, spill.” 

“Remember the night I told you I didn’t come straight home?” Naomi and Jim nodded. “He’s the guy I didn’t fuck.” 

“Wait,” Alex butted in. “So you ditched Jim to go pick up a sex worker named Jimi? Cold.” 

“Nah, wasn’t like that. I mean, yeah, I ditched Jim to pick up a sex worker, which like, sorry,” he said. Jim seemed to dismiss it. They’d already discussed it among the three of them, and Naomi had no doubt he'd be faithful now that they’d established exclusivity. The incident already felt like a lifetime ago. Amos continued explaining: “but I didn’t know his name was Jimi. I actually kinda owe the guy. Might’a gone through with it if it wasn’t.” 

“Huh," said Jim, not revealing how he felt about that. 

“I’m glad I didn’t, bug.” Naomi smiled as she watched Jim kiss Amos. Alex, who was a couple of drinks in (same as Clarissa, Bobbie, and Naomi) made a prolonged fart sound with his tongue between his lips, and the rest of the crew laughed. Jim scrunched up his face, but wasn’t deterred by the mockery. He just leaned into Amos and kissed him harder. 

“Okay, is anyone else curious about the ‘bug’ thing?” Alex asked. Naomi had been thinking the same thing. Amos’s quirk of giving people nicknames was well known, but usually their origins were clearer: _Babs_ to Bobbie, _Peaches_ to Peach Melba to Melba Koh (Clarissa’s former Alias). Naomi was _Boss_ because she was his boss, Anna Volovodov had been _Red_ because she had red hair, Prax had been _Doc_ because he was the closest thing they’d had to a medic. _Bug_ was more of a pet name than a nickname, which pushed toward uncharacteristic for Amos, in Naomi’s opinion. 

“Yeah,” she said when Amos didn’t explain it. “Why bug?” Amos shrugged. 

“I dunno,” he said. “‘Cause he bugs me?” Jim frowned. “‘Cause if I stepped on him, he’d squish?” Another frown. “You don’t like that? You prefer Hole?” 

“Bug’s good,” Jim said, then mumbled: “Jim would be better.” 

“We’ll see, bug.” 

The conversation moved away from the three of them, shepherded by Alex, who pivoted to a detailed account of the hilarious misadventures of Clarissa trying to be his wingman the night before. 

Jim clung to Amos’s side all dinner, which was surprising to Naomi, but welcome. She was happy to see Jim loosening up enough to display affection publicly, and even happier to see Amos displaying affection period. She often caught herself rooting for them more as a viewer than as a participant, just admiring how cute they looked together. As she observed, she started to understand the pleasure Jim got from watching her dance with Amos, though in her case it was less sexual, and more like watching a big dog befriend a tiny kitten. She felt no jealousy about it. Besides, she got introduced as ‘wife,’ and Jim was just ‘boyfriend,’ so if it was a competition— which it wasn’t— she’d still be scoring pretty high. 

But as she continued to watch, sipping her rice wine and paying a low level of attention to the banter that criss-crossed the table, she began to detect that Jim’s PDA was a product of ulterior motives. Though he feigned attention impressively, laughing at all the right punchlines, Naomi keenly followed the focus of his pupils elsewhere. Jim’s smile was at the table with them, and his body was pressed close to Amos’s, but his eyes were trailing Jimi with a jealous ferocity. He wasn’t cuddling up to his boyfriend, he was laying claim. It explained the next move he made, and why he made it just when the server came to check up on them. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Jim announced to the table, punctuated with a pregnant pause and a kiss buried in Amos’s beard. 

“Subtle,” Alex jeered as soon as Jim got up and left, while he was still within ear shot. Amos looked at Naomi like asking for permission. Naomi just shrugged her approval, and pointed her chin in his direction to tell him to follow. 

“Duty calls,” said Amos, and left. 

* * *

Holden broke their kiss. His shirts and jacket were already on the floor, his muscled back pressed against the hard tile as Amos pawed at the curve of his ass. He was light in the low gravity, like a doll. The hand that wasn’t searing a handprint into Holden’s flesh worked its talented fingers at the button of his jeans. There was a look on Holden’s face, but Amos didn’t know what it was. 

“Why didn’t you go home with that guy?” he said out of nowhere. Amos let go of him. 

“What?”

“Jimi.” 

“You’re still on that? I told you.”

“Because we have the same name? Why did that stop you?” 

“I dunno. Felt bad,” he said simply. It was more complicated than that, but he didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t want to replace Jim; he wanted to have him. He didn’t think he could say that out loud. “What’s it matter? I didn’t do it.” 

“But you would’ve? If his name was anything but Jimi?” 

“Probably not if his name was Naomi.”

“Great.” 

“Are we gonna screw, or what?” Amos said, getting impatient. He’d thought they were over this. He didn’t want to fight. 

“Are you gonna go pay for somebody else if we don’t?” Holden blurted out. He looked like he regretted it as soon as he said it. Amos didn’t really know what it was supposed to feel like to get your feelings hurt, but he imagined it was something like this. He put a wall up to stop it from happening again. 

“Guess it depends if Naomi puts out,” he said. It wasn’t true, but he knew it would hurt Jim to hear, and he figured the guy deserved that. If he had so little faith in Amos that he’d actually believe that, maybe he deserved to. Holden looked down, nodded solemnly, taking the bait. Then, wordlessly, slowly, sadly— he put dressed, composed himself, and left the bathroom. 

So this was it. Amos had known it would happen, but he didn’t expect it to all go down so soon, and so unexpectedly. Wasn’t Holden just snuggling up to him in the booth not five minutes before? Didn’t that mean they were good? Was angry-snuggling a thing? Amos figured, not for the first time, that it was better this way. He knew it was better to end it now than ten years down the line. But despite what he _knew,_ he _wanted_ . He _felt._ He _needed._ He didn’t know what to _do._

He went back to the booth, where Alex, Bobbie, Clarissa, and Naomi were merrily sipping wine. Upon seeing him, they smiled, made lewd remarks and gestures at his expense, assuming he’d gotten laid. 

“Where’s your boy toy?” jeered one of them, not Naomi. It would’ve been easy to tell who it was, if he’d been paying attention, but his focus was blurred until the three of them morphed into one being labeled “not-Naomi.” 

“I don’t know,” he said to Naomi, as if she was the one who’d asked. He watched her wine-addled brain work to translate the statement to a cry for help. 

“What happened, baby?” she said, like breathing life into him. He inhaled, took it in. 

“I don’t know,” he said again. If the not-Naomi cohort reacted to that, he didn’t register it. Was he having a panic attack? Her slender hand slipped into his meaty paw, and she pulled him away. When his brain caught up to his mouth, he was frantically explaining his version of the events as she nodded patiently along. 

“He’s jealous,” she explained. “He’s trying not to be, but he can’t help it.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.” 

“Then tell him that. You know Jim. He needs you to communicate with him.” 

“What happens when I say the wrong thing again?” 

“You don’t need to say the right thing. You need to say what you mean. Even if it hurts.” 

He tore the wall down. If he wanted to get Holden back, if he wanted a chance at those ten years before it all blew up, Naomi was right. He had to be honest even if the words came out wrong. They found Jim on a bench outside the restaurant, and Naomi left Amos with a face like saying ‘you know what you have to do.’ He didn’t, but he knew he had to do it alone. 

“Do you wanna punch me? Would that help?” was his opening line as he put his arm around the sulking body beside him. Holden didn’t laugh, but he let himself be held, which seemed like a good sign. Though, Amos didn’t know if Holden would ever turn down Amos’s big arm on his shoulders. 

“Somehow I don’t think domestic violence is the solution here, but I’ll let you know if that changes.” 

“Talking it is, then,” he said. “‘Less you wanna bang it out. I’m better at that.” Holden ignored the offer. It was worth the shot. 

“Do you really love me, Amos?” Holden asked. “Or did you just say that because it’s what I wanted to hear?” Amos sighed, and let Naomi’s voice play like an mp3 in his head. _You need to say what you mean, even if it hurts._

“I don’t know, both?” 

“How can it be both?” 

“I didn’t lie, Jim,” he insisted, offering Holden’s first name like an olive branch. He seemed affected by it, but Amos couldn’t tell exactly what that effect was. “But sayin’ that word… it don’t make me feel like it makes you feel.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I said that shit to you, and you got all sweet and smiley and kissy,” he said, reminiscing half-fondly before the weight of everything else hit him. He swallowed. “I felt like there was a mag boot on my chest.” 

“You didn’t have to say it.” 

“Yeah, I did.” Amos wasn’t looking at Holden. Even when he tried to corral his pupils back, to give Holden the eye contact he’d heard somewhere he was supposed to give, they strayed, watching instead the blurry not-Naomis pass by. “I had to tell you because you didn’t know. It was easy with Naomi, because she already knew.” Holden narrowed his eyes, put some distance between their two bodies, and took a while to reply. 

“I didn’t know you and Naomi said that already,” he said quietly. 

“You gonna get jealous about that, too?” 

“No.” 

“Liar.”

“I’m not jealous that you love Naomi. I want you to love Naomi. You want me to say it doesn’t hurt that apparently it’s _harder_ for you to love me? _That_ would be a lie.” 

“It ain’t harder to love you, Jim. It’s harder to admit it.” 

“Why?” 

“Come back,” Amos said, patting his hand against the surface of the bench. Holden looked at him, and he looked back insistently. The silent argument continued until Amos won it, and Holden tucked himself back where he belonged. 

“Tell me why,” Holden demanded. Amos composed the words in his head before he said them. That was new. It was exhausting. 

“Naomi doesn’t expect anything from me. She knows I’m fucked up and likes me like the way I am. You… you think calling me your boyfriend is gonna turn me into a boyfriend. I’m gonna let you down.” 

“You’re not—” 

“Yeah, I am. I’m gonna almost-fuck some guy, or I’m gonna say the wrong thing, ‘cause I don’t always know the difference between when we’re joking and when we’re not, and I don’t always care all that much. Or you’re gonna wanna tell me about your day, or some bullshit problem I don’t get, and I’m just gonna wanna put my dick in your mouth, and you’re gonna think I’m bein’ insensitive about it. Or I’m gonna humiliate you, and not in the way you like it, or hurt your feelings, or, I don’t know. Fuck you too hard. I don’t know what it’ll be, and I don’t know when. Could be today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now. But I’m gonna let you down. What are you smiling at?” 

“You think we’ll still be together in twenty years. I think that’s reason enough to try.” 

“Even if I fuck around on you?” he couldn’t help asking. Holden stopped smiling. 

“Do you plan on it?” 

“No.”

“So why should I?” 

“I can’t predict the future,” Amos said. He didn’t think he’d cheat on Holden and Naomi, but he wanted to prime them for the worst possibility. 

“Then maybe we stop trying to.”

“James Holden is telling me not to worry about the worst-case scenario?” 

“I appreciate the irony. I just don’t see us lasting very long if Naomi’s the only one not being a dumbass. And I wanna last.” 

“So I gotta stop being a dumbass, so you can keep being a dumbass?” 

“Yes please,” Holden said lightheartedly, nuzzling his nose in Amos’s beard. 

“How about we both just be half as much of a dumbass as we’re being right now?” 

“I think I can manage that compromise,” Holden agreed. “If you can promise you’ll try not to fuck up, I can promise to forgive you if you do.” 

“When I do,” Amos corrected. He needed Holden to know there wasn’t an ‘if’ about it. 

“Okay. I’ll forgive you _when_ you fuck up. But it’s gotta be an honest fuck-up. You don’t get to hurt me on purpose because you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me worse on accident.” 

“Deal.” 

Naomi and the not-Naomis, who had returned to their original states as Clarissa, Alex, and Bobbie as he returned from his panic, met them at their bench with churros and soy ice cream in bioplastic to-go containers. 

“Well, we were gonna hit the casino for a little while,” Naomi said, once they’d assured her they’d talked out their issues, and would divulge the details of their agreement as soon as they were alone. Naomi, who trusted them more than Amos thought they deserved, agreed to those terms. Amos didn’t know if she was staying out with the others because she wanted to, or because she wanted to give her boyfriends time to fuck out their problems, but Amos was grateful for the opportunity either way. “You two coming along?” 

“Nah,” said Amos. “As much as I love to kick Alex’s ass in poker, I think I still need remindin’ who I belong to. Right, Jim?” Naomi and Holden grinned. 

“I’ll be sure to remind you later, then,” she said with a smile, then kissed him. “Play nice, you two."

"No promises."

And then they were alone.


	18. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weird chapter.

As soon as they were through the door of their hotel room, Amos’s hand was around Holden’s neck, his back pressed against a wall for the second time that night. Almost-vacant green eyes drilled ferociously down into wide, wet brown ones, blinking fearfully upward. As his heartbeat sped up in his chest, Holden had to remind himself he’d asked for this— just minutes ago, on their way home from the restaurant. Amos was a good actor. 

“Your safeword is ‘red,’” Amos informed him. “Is that understood?” It was all Holden could do to nod. It wasn’t enough. As his dom slapped him, hard and merciless across the face, his hand felt somehow bigger than ever before, and the pain took the shape of his massive handprint. Holden savored the sting of it. 

“Yes,” he strained to say. Another smack. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, that’s understood?” he tried.  _ Smack. _ When it dawned on him what Amos was probably going for, he grimaced. “I’m not calling you Daddy, dude.” 

Amos's laugh was more villainous than amused, and it sent a shiver down Holden’s spine. 

“‘Sir’ will be just fine,” instructed Amos darkly. Giggling was not the right move, but Holden couldn’t help but laugh at the notion of addressing Amos Burton so professionally. But then Amos smacked the amusement off his face, and tightened his grip on the sides of Holden’s throat, and the idea of showing some respect felt a little less absurd. 

“Yes, sir,” he finally said. His master didn’t seem pleased by his belated obedience, but he accepted it. Amos lifted him by his throat, low gravity the only thing keeping him from asphyxiating, and forced a knee between his legs. It was a paltry support system, but it kept him from falling. 

“Look at me. You tell me ‘no,’ I won’t stop. You start crying, I won’t stop. You fight me, I’ll tie your fucking wrists to your ankles, and I won’t stop. You say ‘red,’ I stop in a heartbeat. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“If, for any reason, you find yourself unable to speak, you click your fingers for me,” he snapped his fingers loudly in Holden’s face to demonstrate, “and I’ll stop.”

“What reason might that be?” Holden said playfully, like begging for another slap. He was drunk on the pain, desperate for another fix. Besides, he’d been perfectly obedient earlier, and he was in the mood to make Amos work harder for it. He’d been right that there wasn’t a dominant bone in the captain’s body, but he didn’t go down without a fight, either. Unless Naomi asked nicely, that is. 

“Keep fucking around and you’ll find out,” Amos said. He didn’t slap Holden.  _ Pity. _ Then, his tone seemed to lighten, just a smidge. If Holden wasn’t intimately in-tune with Amos’s mannerisms, he wouldn’t have noticed a difference. But there was a minute vulnerability in his countenance as he asked: “can I trust you to safeword out if I do or say anything you don’t like?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Can you trust me to stop if you do?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Yes, Amos,” he corrected, softened his grip until it was scarcely harder than a caress. It was a plea more than a demand. Holden looked directly into his eyes, summoned all the love in his body into his answer: 

“Yes, Amos, I trust you.” 

“Good,” he said, punctuating the word by tearing down the front of Holden’s shirt, easily ripping from the v of the neck to the bottom hem in one swift motion. When a sliver of pale skin shined through the rift like light through the crack under a door, Amos shucked all three layers— the shirt, the flannel, the jacket— from Holden’s torso like one piece. 

“I liked that shirt,” Holden pouted. 

“Looks better off.” 

Amos then unburdened Holden of his shoes, pants and boxers just as easily. He was completely naked, standing in front of Amos, completely clothed. His dom’s hungry eyes on his exposed form left him feeling more vulnerable than being slapped across the face. It was just as intoxicating. 

Amos hooked a finger under his chin, trailed his thumb over the soft skin of his bitten lower lip, and stared intensely with half-lidded eyes like seeing into Holden’s soul. If there ever was a signal that meant ‘kiss me’ unequivocally, Holden figured it would be that. He leaned in to accept the nonverbal invitation, parted his lips and tilted his head. Amos spat in his mouth. 

“Brats don’t get kisses,” he said, then spat again. 

“Ew, Amos,” Holden whined, and spat back. Amos’s reaction was best described as a growl— low and feral, from the back of his throat. He wiped the saliva from his mouth in dramatic slow motion, then smacked Holden hard against the face three times, one after another, after another. Holden, not one to learn his lesson, took the beating and grinned. Amos didn’t like that. 

He took a step back from Holden, letting his feet meet the floor, looking him over like sizing up an opponent that he knew he could take. Holden knew he looked as vulnerable as he felt, naked and aching with hardness, his cock weeping against his abs like painting him with desperation. He shivered, and his breath caught as it passed through his parted lips, no longer smiling. A cocktail of emotions and thoughts that didn’t mix well together stirred in his gut: the knowledge that Amos could break him like a twig underfoot sent a rush of terror through his veins like amphetamines, but the wisdom that he wouldn’t— the  _ trust _ that he wouldn’t hurt him— kept him wanting to play cat and mouse to see how far he’d go. When he smiled again, he wasn’t putting on a show; he was simply pleased. 

“I know what you’re up to, puppy,” Amos accused. “Ain’t gonna work.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he played coy. 

“You want me to hit you. You think acting up will get you what you want. I promise you, it won’t.” 

“Worked so far.” 

Amos looked him over with narrowed eyes, then seemed to come to a devious decision. He took out his hand terminal, and did something on it that Holden couldn’t see. 

“Test me one more time, I hit ‘send,’” Amos threatened, then turned the device around to show him. 

“That’s too far, Amos,” warned Holden, as he stared into his own eyes on the screen, Amos’s cum coating him from his lashes to his lips. The photo message was addressed to the Rocinante’s group chat— Alex, Clarissa, Bobbie, Naomi, and himself. 

“You know how to stop me,” he said. The safeword was in the back of Holden’s throat. Of course he couldn’t let Amos expose that picture to all of his peers. In a day, the photo would be blown up poster-sized and hung like a flag above the galley table, or something worse he didn’t have the brain capacity to conjure. It would undo all of the work he’d done to ensure that no one was uncomfortable with their new arrangement, and it would piss off Naomi. On every level, it couldn’t happen. So why did it thrill Holden to believe that it might? 

Amos wouldn’t actually do that, right?  _ Right? _ He trusted Amos not to hurt him. But trusting Amos not to humiliate him was a leap of faith he couldn’t quite take. That three-letter word, so easy to say, migrated through his vocal cords to the roof of his mouth, but stuck there like peanut butter. Every nerve in his body was on fire. The fear— the real fear, the  _ I-honestly-can’t-tell-if-he’s-bluffing _ fear— was invigorating, and he wasn’t ready to let that feeling go. He swallowed the word, felt the sharp edges of its letters on the lining of his throat as they tore through him and made a home in the bottom of his stomach, waiting to be summoned once more. 

“Yeah,” Holden said instead, “I know.” Amos raised his eyebrows. Holden didn’t know if he’d passed the test or failed it, but he knew Amos was surprised by the outcome. He put the hand terminal down, the message still there on the screen, but unsent. 

“Okay then,” he said, still not giving much away. “You speak when spoken to. Act out, and our whole crew gets to see what you look like coated in my splooge.” Holden cringed at the verbiage, which he assumed had been the point. His ability to keep his mouth shut was being tested. 

“Yes sir,” he said, passing the test. Amos laughed evilly. 

“I don’t mind either way. I think you look real good with my spunk in your eyelashes,” he said, with emphasis on the dirty word. “Think Peaches, Babs, and Alex would like to see that pretty face painted with jizz?”

“Yes, sir.” Holden didn’t know if that was the answer Amos was looking for. ‘No, sir,’ was more honest, but it felt too contrarian for safety. His dom seemed satisfied enough. 

“Say it. Tell me how good you look covered in my cream, and I’ll fuck your skull nice and rough.” 

“How is that a rew—” he started, then stopped himself as he remembered the real-life consequences of disobedience, and course-corrected: “I look so pretty covered in your cream, Amos.” Amos laughed. 

“Go on. Ad lib a little.” 

“I… love your hot…  _ splooge _ … dripping all over my… cocksucking lips.” Amos buckled over in laughter. 

“This is so much more fun than sex. Keep going, I’m listening,” he said, half-jogging toward the bedroom. When Holden didn’t say anything, he bellowed, “I can’t hear you!”

“I want everyone to know what a slut I am for being stuffed and coated with your…” 

“My what?” Amos called, still smiling brighter than Holden had ever seen, as he emerged from the bedroom with the purple dildo, the riding crop, lube, and what looked like the same panties Naomi had worn during the day before. 

“I don’t know, baby batter?” offered Holden with a sour face. Amos seemed to appreciate ‘baby batter,’ though the term tasted rancid on Holden’s tongue. He liked making Amos smile, though, which was something. 

“You’re cute. Put these on,” he said, handing over the used black garment. 

“They’re too small,” Holden said before he tried them on. 

“And you know that already because…” Amos said, asking the question.  _ It’s not like we were vanilla before you, _ Holden didn’t say. 

“They’re too tight around my massive—” 

“Okay, relax, Seabiscuit. Put the panties on,” he instructed. Then, under his breath, added: “massive, my ass.” 

Despite Amos’s best efforts to turn him off with the world’s least sexy dirty talk, Holden was still unwaveringly hard. The ‘massive’ remark had been a joke, sure, but he wasn’t small, and he stretched the lacy fabric to the limits of its flexibility. Amos seemed to appreciate the view, leering like a predator as he eyed Holden up and down, then reaching for his hand terminal. 

“Amos, no more pictures.” 

“You know how to stop me,” he said seriously, for the second time. The first time, Holden had interpreted the statement as a dare, but this time he saw it for what it really was. Amos was offering an out. An insurance policy. Holden was grateful for it, but he didn’t need it. He didn’t even consider using his safeword this time, just gave into his newfound love of being threatened with public humiliation. The more blackmail fodder Amos had, the more he got to feel that exhilarating tightness in his gut. He would say ‘red’ if he had to. He just didn’t think that he would. “Smile.” 

Once the picture was taken, Holden was immediately pushed onto his knees, his face pressed against Amos’s erection.

_ “That’s _ what massive feels like, baby boy,” Amos taunted. “And some of us don’t need a teeny pair of panties to prove it.” Holden ignored the cheesy boast and continued rubbing his face against the hard line of his dom’s dick, awaiting an instruction to take it out and suck it for real. Amos offered no such order, just pulled his cock from the waistband of his joggers himself and slapped it against Holden’s face until his lips parted to take it. 

Amos was merciless with him, using his face like there wasn’t a brain behind it. Holden had gagged on Amos’s thick length before, but he’d been in control, he’d set the pace. This time, he was an object to be used, a fucktoy with the added benefit of producing spit. Amos’s hand laced in the curls at the nape of his neck, ensuring he had nowhere to go, no recourse to escape the brutality but to snap and be let off the hook. He didn’t. He looked up at Amos, eyes watering, and let himself be filled to overflowing. 

Holden didn’t know how long it went on for; it could’ve been seconds or minutes or hours. (It must’ve been seconds. He was only human.) For whatever duration, they seemed to be locked in a war of attrition, Holden unwilling to tap out, Amos unwilling to stop until he did. Eventually, Amos lost, evacuating Holden’s throat to let him breathe. 

“Shit, bug,” he said, breaking character to stroke Holden’s hair lovingly. “I ain’t tryna drill a hole through ya.” 

“I can take it,” Holden insisted, the rasp of his voice disagreeing with him. Amos chuckled and let Holden suck him properly, actually making use of his lips and tongue this time. Holden still pushed himself until he choked, but didn’t sustain the torture. He worshipped wetly at the altar of Amos’s big cock, his hand tugging and tweaking his balls, then disappearing behind them to massage the sensitive space before his hole. 

“Good little cocksucker,” Amos praised, scritching the back of Holden’s head with short, comforting motions. 

“Fucking finally,” Holden said as he panted to catch his breath. He hadn’t realized he was desperate for Amos’s approval of his fellatio skills until he said the words. He was smacked for it.

“That’s not what you say. You lookin’ to see that pretty picture on the front page of the tabloid feeds? ‘Cause I don’t gotta keep it in the family.” 

“No, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

“What do you say?” 

“Thank you, sir. Happy to please you, sir,” he corrected himself. 

“Fuckin’ brat,” said Amos fondly. “C’mere.” He pulled Holden up by his neck and forced their mouths into a sloppy collision. 

_ I thought brats don’t get kisses,  _ he wanted to say, but chose not to stir the water. He liked getting kissed. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Face down, ass up, on the couch,” Amos ordered. Holden obeyed. The big guy picked up one of the items he had collected, and Holden had a pretty good idea of which one it was, though his cheek was pressed to the cushion facing the wrong direction to see. His suspicions were confirmed as the leather tongue of a riding crop trailed down his arched spine, threatening to attack at any time. Amos dragged Naomi’s panties back over Holden’s round ass and down his legs, but didn’t take them off him completely. Instead, they stayed like cuffs around Holden’s ankles, offering both the humiliation of wearing too-small panties and the vulnerability of being naked at the same time. 

“You are gonna have to learn your place, little one. Spread that ass for me.” The tickle of the flogger disappeared. Holden predicted a hard, stinging slap to his rim as soon as his hole was exposed, but it didn’t come. Amos spat on him, rubbed the wetness away with a thumb moving over that sensitive place. “You talk such a big game about what you can handle. I think I oughta test that.” When the flogger came down for the first time, it didn’t connect with his ass. The smarting contact actually came to the bottom of Holden’s left foot, then the right. He flinched, hissed, cursed at the pain. Amos did it again, and again and again, running his dirty mouth as he made his way up Holden’s legs with bruising collisions. 

“You like that, slut?” Amos asked. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Guess I better hit harder, then. Ain’t tryna do shit you like.” 

“Then you should play with my rim some more. I hate that,” he snarked. It earned him a hard smack on the bottom of his foot (which Holden had by then learned was the very worst place to be hit with a riding crop), but Amos didn’t get up to make good on his promise to send that photo. Holden was starting to think he wouldn’t. 

“Yeah right,” Amos dismissed. He pulled the panties from Holden’s ankles and stuffed them in his sub’s mouth, then snapped in Holden’s face to remind him how to end the scene without his safeword. The crop’s upward journey finally concluded with a succession of barbarous blows to the meat of Holden’s ass. If he wasn’t still bruised from Naomi’s loving hickeys, he would be again. He could see the red stripes of seared flesh in his mind’s eye as vividly as he could feel them. 

“No short-shorts for a little while, baby boy,” Amos mused, trailing a palm over his hot skin, which he took to mean there were, in fact, visible marks there. Naomi would certainly make fun of him for them. He was excited about that. 

Amos maneuvered them so that Holden was laying face down over his lap, and discarded the riding crop in favor of his own hand. Somehow, the position was even more humiliating than face-down-ass-up, and Holden welcomed the feeling as Amos gave him a firm spanking. 

Without warning, a thick finger pressed at his hole. 

“I got half a mind to use this ass without lube, show you what hurt really feels like. Would you like that, slutty boy?” 

Holden couldn’t speak, so he shook his head ‘no.’ Amos hummed, like trying to decipher whether Holden meant it, or if it was another attempt at reverse psychology to get what he wanted. Holden didn’t really know the answer. The prospect of even one of Amos’s thick fingers stretching him raw was terrifying, but he liked the fear. Though, he expected that to be a lot more sexy in theory. He counted his lucky stars when Amos reached for the lube. 

Without any warning but the  _ click _ of the bottle cap closing, two slick fingers forced him further than he was prepared for. His moan, even muffled by the fabric between his teeth, must’ve reverberated throughout the entire station. Amos chuckled as he fucked those fingers inside his sub, scissored and stretched him to his limit and beyond. Holden felt Amos’s hard cock pulse against his stomach, and his whole body tightened in anticipation of feeling it inside him. 

Amos kept running his mouth as Holden adjusted to being filled. As the tips of those magical fingers massaged the sweet, sensational spot inside of him, the dirty talk faded into background noise. Holden was sure the words Amos spoke were vulgar and violent, empty threats of brutal punishment both physical and emotional, but they were drowned out by the sheer volume of pleasure rushing through his body. What he did hear was the melody of the words, the comforting tone of his best friend’s voice. The sound wrapped around him like a safety blanket. 

He was pulled back to the ground as Amos withdrew his fingers. 

“‘Should film you like this,” he was saying. “‘Look so pretty over my knee, love you so much.” Holden booted the panties out of his mouth with his tongue, punishment be damned. 

“Love you too,” Holden said. Amos stilled. 

“‘Thought you weren’t payin’ attention,” he mumbled. Holden smiled. 

“And you love me even when I’m not paying attention.” 

“Remind me to get you a gag you can’t spit out,” Amos said, then reached for the dildo and shoved it in Holden’s mouth. He sucked hungrily on it like a pacifier, letting it silence him. “‘Know how much you like balls in your mouth.” Holden knew that was a dig, but he nodded in agreement like it was a simple statement of fact. Plus, he liked the idea of buying a ball gag. 

He looked back at Amos, his mouth stretched wide around the toy, and tried his best to communicate with his eyes that he wanted to be fucked. He reached a hand under himself to try and jerk Amos off, but his hand was swatted away. 

“Alright, alright,” Amos acquiesced, “off me.” Holden hurried to reposition himself on his hands and knees beside Amos. Amos didn’t hesitate to give him what he wanted. 

Amos was still clothed, grinding recklessly into Holden’s naked body when they heard the hiss of the sliding hotel room door. He didn’t stop. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Naomi snarked, Holden could hear the tipsiness in her voice, but didn’t think she was full-on drunk. He knew drunk-Naomi well, and she’d have made a grander entrance, and probably gone straight for the riding crop. “Are those my panties?” 

“Might be a little stretched out,” Amos said, not faltering in his angled thrusts. When Naomi came into view in front of Holden’s face, he couldn’t do much by way of greeting. Amos pulled at his hair like reigns, forcing him to look up at their visitor. “Say ‘hi,’ puppy.” 

“Hi,” Holden tried to say, though it sounded more like “uh” around the dildo. 

“Sucking my cock? Without me?” Holden dropped it from his mouth.

“I like to think it’s  _ our _ cock,” he said, harkening back to that fateful day at the sex toy store. It felt like years ago now. She laughed, getting the reference.

“Who said you could spit that out?” Amos barked, dropping a hard slap on Holden’s ass. 

“Sorry, sir,” Holden said. Naomi smiled and fed the toy back into his mouth, and he received it graciously. 

“Win big tonight?” Amos asked Naomi casually, as if he wasn’t kind of busy. 

“Nah, quit while I was even,” she said with the same tone. “Did you know Bobbie’s kind of a card shark?”

“What the hell can’t she do?” 

“True. Anyway, I’d much rather have been at home with my boys. I see you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom.” 

“Dogs don’t get to play on the bed, right puppy?” he asked, before doling out another spank. Holden furrowed his brow in disagreement, but still nodded like he agreed. “Good boy.” 

“Mmm, Amos, I like the Dom thing on you. So sexy. Tell me what to do.” 

“Really?” Amos asked. Holden thought the same. 

“Sure. I mean, call me ‘bitch’ and you’re in the dog house for a month, but I can take an order.” 

“I would never call you by Holden’s name. Alright, take your clothes off,” he instructed, though tonally it was more of a suggestion than an order. 

Holden watched attentively as Naomi wiggled seductively out of her clothes. His gaze never left her body, even as Amos’s cock nudged his prostate and made it hard to keep his eyes from falling closed in ecstasy. She wore a mustard yellow turtleneck sweater that was bulky in a fashionable way and cropped above the belly button to show off a distracting strip of glowing skin. Her legs were adorned with a high-waisted pair of light wash jeans, distressed with gaping holes at the knees showing off fishnets underneath that also peaked up above the belt loops. When the outer layer was stripped, she stood in a simple black bra and matching panties, the diamond-shaped elastic knit of the tights still clinging to her long legs. The bra was the first of her undergarments to hit the floor, after a slow and tantalizing process that ended with hypnotizing shimmy. She tucked her fingers into the tight, stretchy waist of the hose to pull them down, but Amos stopped her.

“That’ll do,” he said. Then, reluctantly, like trying a new and unfamiliar flavor, added: “good girl.” She giggled at the praise. 

“Jim can’t lick me if I’m still wearing panties and fishnets,” she pointed out. Holden perked up at the suggestion, though he disagreed with the statement. He’d find a way.

“They’ll come off. I’m just gonna enjoy the view for a little while. C’mere, baby girl.” Holden craned his neck to watch them together. Amos’s movement inside him slowed almost to a stop as he kissed her— one hand fondling her breasts as the other squeezed her ass. He hummed contentedly, then spoke against her lips. “My gorgeous wife. We should run away together, just you and me. Get hitched, start a life together on fuckin’ Ganymede or something.” 

“Mmm, tempting,” she played along. Then, with a wink to Holden, pondered: “But who would feed the dog?” 

“I don’t like this joke,” Holden pouted, abandoning his gag once again. 

“Alright, princess,” Amos said. A firm squeeze on his ass was the only thing that indicated Amos was addressing Holden, not Naomi. Amos pulled out and he whimpered at the loss. “Turn over, little slut. Gonna let my girl sit on your face.” Holden took offense to the pronoun ‘my’ in that sentence, but he obeyed, flipping to his back and spreading his legs for Amos. 

Holden didn’t know how Amos had even managed to last as long as he had, but it seemed like that endurance was running thin. Holden’s patience was going in a similar direction, his cock achingly hard between them. He didn’t even watch Naomi finish undressing, just looked up at Amos with a plea in his eyes.

“Puppies come last, Jim,” Amos said, acknowledging the desperation but not satisfying it. 

Before he could complain, Naomi straddled his face, and he was pacified. If Amos and Naomi exchanged words above him, he was too distracted to process them. She rode his tongue to the brink of suffocation, then withdrew, only to resume as soon as he could catch his breath. The sound of Amos’s voice was distant and unclear as white noise, but Holden presumed from the punishing nature of her gyrations that she was following his orders. When Amos sped up, thrusting his hips with a sudden, unpredictable intensity, Holden knew his boyfriend was coming from the sense memory of it alone. Their whole bodies shook together as one unit, like an Earthquake somehow struck Tycho. 

Holden entertained himself, licking and sucking at Naomi’s wetness until her legs spasmed under his palms. He stopped minding whatever Amos was up to as a feral, animalian impulse compelled him to remind Naomi just whose tongue belonged in her cunt. As she grinded down once more, encouraging him deeper, a pair of lips wrapped wetly around the tip of Holden’s cock, and he was too far gone to hazard a guess who they belonged to. Before Holden could register that Amos had moved from his place at the other end of the couch, another tongue joined his efforts between Naomi’s legs, which answered his question for him.

As he shared Naomi with Amos, licking his girlfriend’s clit and his boyfriend’s tongue like a scene out of a porno that he’d never guess would come to life, he felt an unexpected sense of belonging. They came together, Holden and Naomi in the sixty-nine position, with Amos inseparably attached. As he resonated in the euphoric high of an orgasm shared with the loves of his life, he felt like a puzzle completed. Naomi’s voice broke the spell as she dismounted him.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” she announced. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Holden offered bashfully. She laughed and kissed him, letting him taste himself on her lips. 

“You two have whatever talk is about to happen, then meet me in bed. First one who can get it up again gets to fuck me,” she teased, then made her exit. 

Holden sat up as Amos sat down, so they were pressed together side-by-side. Automatically, Holden leaned into the big body beside himself, and Amos put an arm out to accommodate him.

They talked about the ‘scene,’ as Amos called it— a long conversation that was necessary, though not particularly riveting. Essentially, it boiled down to Holden reassuring Amos that he’d enjoyed what they did, that Amos hadn’t gone too far, and that he’d like to explore the dynamic more in the future. 

When the formalities were handled, Holden changed the subject. 

“Hey, uh… in the spirit of serious conversations that need to happen, I’m sorry about earlier,” he said. 

“About being a total brat when I was trying to dominate you?” 

“No, you should probably get used to that. I’m sorry about being nasty and jealous at dinner.” Amos gave a dismissive shake of his head. Holden knew he didn’t have to bring it up, that Amos would’ve moved on in the easy way he always did. But Holden didn’t like the way he’d treated Amos, and he deserved an apology whether he demanded one or not. 

“It’s okay, little bug.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t get to be mad at you for guys you screwed or didn’t screw before we were together.” 

“That’s good news, ‘cause there’s a pretty long list.”

“I just… I don’t know. Freaked out.”

“Yeah, uh, mind letting me know what happened there? ‘Cause I ain’t a shrink or nothin,’ but I’m pretty sure you don’t really give a shit that I hit on some guy in a bar.” 

“You know how I told you you’re not allowed to fuck things up on purpose because you’re scared they’ll get fucked up by accident?” 

“Yeah,” said Amos, like a question. Holden ducked his head in shame. 

“I may have a little bit done that. By accident.” 

“You fucked things up on purpose… by accident?” 

“I don’t know. I panicked.” 

“Yeah, I get that. S’okay.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, Jim. Nobody ever cared about who I put my dick in before, ‘cept whoever it was getting dicked. And even then, not always. I ain’t givin’ you a free pass to be a jealous little bitch all the time, but I ain’t mad at you for givin’ a shit, either. We’re all good.” 

“Good.”

“Plus,” he added, “if arguin’ a little gets me laid like that, I’ma start hittin’ on pretty strangers more often.” Holden flicked him. 

“He wasn’t that pretty.” 

“Not as pretty as you, little hole,” he said with a kiss to Holden’s temple. 

They sat there together in silence for a while while Holden wracked his brain for something that needed to be said— some argument that needed to be settled, something he needed to apologize for or work out. There was nothing. All of the members of his crew knew about their arrangement, and supported them unconditionally. Even their teasing resonated with warmth. He and his lovers were all on the same page, no jealousy or drama getting in the way of a healthy and lasting polyamorous relationship. Amos’s arm was heavy around him like a weighted blanket, his heartbeat steady and unfettered. Holden’s body ached in a dull and satisfying way, both a consequence of stellar sex and a constant reminder he was loved and taken care of. He was at peace.

“I can’t believe I spanked Naomi Nagata,” Amos suddenly mused aloud, a proud grin spreading across his face. It didn’t ruin the serenity, as it probably should’ve. The crass remark somehow managed to warm Holden even more; it was so perfectly  _ Amos. _

“Mazel tov,” Holden snarked. 

“I’m gonna go do it again,” Amos declared as he stood and made his way toward the bedroom. Once in the doorway, he turned back. “You comin,’ bug?” 

Holden followed. 


	19. bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi examines her relationship with sexual submission, and Holden examines his relationship with Amos. 
> 
> Warning: Naomi discusses her canonical history of domestic emotional abuse. Nothing is described in graphic detail, but the lasting traumatic effects of her relationship with Marco are explored to some degree.

Jim sunk into the hot, Epsom-salted water in their hotel room’s glorious jacuzzi bathtub, groaning as his sore legs and ass hit the porcelain surface. Naomi watched his chiseled body stretch as he yawned as she entered the room in her robe, with two champagne flutes together in one hand and a bottle in the other. She lit the candles that Jim had bought weeks ago when he first tried to convince her to take a bad with him like this, poured a glass for each of them, and disrobed to join him. They didn’t do the traditional, romantic thing often, and it was normally Jim who had to do a little coercing to make it happen, but Naomi was just in a loving mood. Plus, Amos put them both through the ringer earlier that evening, so she figured they could use a little aftercare. 

Amos had elected not to join them. He said he was going to watch some porn in their bed, which was suspicious after two consecutive orgasms at his big age, but she didn’t interrogate it. 

Naomi joined Jim in the outlandishly massive tub, and chose not to remark on the Earther excess of dunking your whole body in constantly regenerating water. Jim was relaxed, a rare sight to see. She let him be. It was nice to be alone with Jim— familiar, yet exciting still. 

“Cheers,” he said, extending his glass to her. “To… new beginnings.” 

“Yam seng,” she replied. “New beginnings.” They drank. Naomi leaned into Jim and laced their fingers together. For a long while, they enjoyed the peaceful silence of one another’s company. She absently graced her fingernails over his skin in comforting motions, watching wordlessly as the gears in his head ratcheted and turned. When he finally spoke, the words were nervously strung together and breathless. 

“Do you ever think about the fact that this whole thing started because I asked you if you were down to try anal and you said that I should see if Amos wanted to let me fuck him instead?” She blinked. 

“I have not thought about that once. Is this you trying to get in my ass again, because I swear—” 

“No. Your disinterest is duly noted, I won’t ask again,” he said seriously. Then, more lightheartedly: “I mean, if you change your mind—” 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she said with a gentle elbow to his ribs. 

“It’s not that. I just can’t believe less than two weeks ago this was just about sex.” She kissed him lightly, pensively. She found that hard to believe, too. Perhaps because it didn’t quite ring true. 

“I don’t think it ever was,” she mused. Jim looked thoughtfully at her in question, but said nothing, so she elaborated. “I think you two have been in love for a long time. Maybe you just needed sex to help you see that.” 

“Wait, don’t tell me this was all your elaborate scheme to get me and Amos to admit we had feelings for each other all along.” 

“Nothing so diabolical. I didn’t know either. But as soon as I did, I didn’t know what took me so long.” 

“When did you know? That I loved him?”

“What do you remember about the night you sent that voicemail?” He looked at her like he didn’t know what that had to do with anything. She just raised her eyebrows, prompting him to answer. She’d get to the point. 

“I remember the bowling simulation,” he said. 

“We just call it bowling,” she couldn’t help correcting. Low gravity didn’t permit the kind of bowling Jim and Clarissa described to her, but the VR sport was pretty popular on stations in the belt. It was more of an excuse to eat fries and get drunk with your friends than a real competition like Ball-to-the-wall, which, as Clarissa explained, was something it had in common with the Earther version. 

“Right. I remember bowling. It was the first time we hung out with him since… you know. Our talk.” She nodded. “It was like I was seeing him for the first time in a different light, like I flipped some switch that I couldn’t flip off. And he was wearing those grey joggers.” 

“I know the ones,” she acknowledged lasciviously. 

“It’s like, fuck, a tee shirt that says ‘I’m hung like a horse’ would’ve be more subtle.”

“Mhm.” 

“I remember he was sitting really close to me. Kept leaning into me. Couldn’t figure out if it was new, like he was somehow reading my mind and fucking with me, or if he’s always touched me that much and I just never noticed.” 

“Second one,” she informed him. She had noticed that, been noticing for years. She thought it was cute. Amos didn’t like to be touched by strangers, got tense or even violent in crowds. But when he trusted someone the way he trusted Naomi and Jim, touching was his love language. He clung to Jim like he was glued there at any chance he got. She felt silly once again for not noticing they were in love sooner. 

“Really?” he raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Yeah, babe.” 

“Shit,” he said. His eyes lost focus for a beat, presumably trying to decide if he recalled such a thing. He settled on something with a brief quirk of his eyebrows, but didn’t divulge the details. “Well. It was freaking me out.”

“That why you got drunk?” she asked him. 

“Yeah. That, and those fucking sweatpants, swear to God, I would’ve dropped to my knees right there and—” 

“I got it,” she interrupted, amused. Her thinking at the time hadn’t involved getting on her knees as much as getting on his lap, but she understood the Grey Sweatpants Effect. Great scholars could write dissertations on the outline of Amos Burton’s still-massive-when-soft dick in those joggers. 

_ “That’s _ when you realized I was in love with him?” She smiled. She wouldn’t call that ‘love.’ 

“Not quite. But you’re a talkative drunk.” 

“I told you I was in love with him?” he asked, ever impatient. 

“Not in so many words. But you didn’t stop talking about him. There was this look in your eyes that I’ve only ever heard talked about.” 

“What look?” 

“The one people tell me you have when you talk about me,” she told him, trying to sound nonchalant about it, even as her heart welled up with love. “That’s when I knew.” 

“Didn’t know there was a look,” he said.

“You have a very expressive face.” His face said ‘touche.’

“S’why I’m shit at poker.” 

“Also why people trust you. You don’t hide what you’re thinking.” 

“What am I thinking about right now?” he asked with a blank face pointed in her direction. She hummed inquisitively, indulging him in the little game. His expression didn’t give anything away, but she knew him well. 

“It’s either something sappy, or something dirty.” 

“Dirty,” he told her, his eyes flitting down her naked body and back up. 

She reached for her wine and sipped it thoughtfully, prolonging the suspenseful moment. She had some idea of the things that could be on her lover’s mind, the same things that had been replaying in her own since they transpired not long before their bath. Jim’s cock in her mouth, his come down her throat. The hard, punishing slap of Amos’s palm on her ass. Their tongues together, sharing her hungrily like the kind of male-gaze porn she’d mock for being nothing like real sex. (Turns out they were onto something.) His breath on her skin as he loomed over her recumbent body, warnings spoken softly into her unsuspecting ear.  _ Tell me no, and I’ll stop. _ Those hands— no longer worshipful— smacking, squeezing, abusing her breasts until they seemed to remember his grip like the viscoelastic foam of a crash couch. Violent kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of her neck. Both her wrists bound by one powerful hand above her head as he grinded into her with an unstoppable force. Jim’s covetous eyes, watching in want. Shameless need pulsing at her core. Trust. Love. Euphoria. Orgasm. 

“Does it have anything to do with the reason my tits hurt like a bitch right now?” 

“Might,” he said, caressing them tenderly. “What ever happened to ‘I don’t sub’?” 

“Turns out you’re not the only one who can appreciate a little roughing up.”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t think that was your thing.” 

“Me neither,” she said, then let out a deep breath. There had been something— a thought, an idea, a desire— stewing in her mind that she didn’t know how to say out loud. A conflict that stirred in her belly at the very mention of her own submission, since even before Amos entered the equation to amplify it. She’d been ashamed to admit it aloud to Jim, who seemed to give himself so easily to his own desires. Jim, who let trust flow like water. Naomi’s trust was viscous and sticky as molasses, and scarce. But Jim had earned it. So, hard as it was, she started at the very beginning. 

“I’ve been with men who wanted control over me,” she continued. Jim’s face mirrored the tonal shift of the conversation, turning serious. “Men who considered my submission a prize to be won. Or worse, something they deserved without even having to earn it. Submitting, even consensually, felt like giving up a part of myself I wasn’t ready to lose.” 

“You don’t owe me—” 

“I don’t owe you anything,” she snapped. He nodded at her apologetically, always so quick to assume she was in the right, even when it was so clear that she wasn’t. He’d filled the silence after she finished speaking with words. That was how conversations went. Perhaps she was too used to being interrupted. She softened, took his hand and kissed it reverently in repentance for the undeserved outburst. She summoned whatever clarity she could, and spoke again calmly. “I mean… I  _ don’t _ owe you anything. But there are things I’d like to give you— no, not give you— there are  _ experiences _ I’d like to  _ share _ with you. And Amos.”

Jim looked like he wanted to ask, but didn’t want to speak, so she went on.

“Submitting to a man terrifies me. And a couple of Earthers? I mean, no offense,” she said. She hoped the look in her eyes and the tilt of her head let him know he could respond. 

“None taken, “ he dared to say. He understood the implied power dynamics. “I guess I never really thought about the sociopolitical implications.” 

“I wouldn’t want you to. I have no interest in being a symbol. The sex we have isn’t a metaphor for the interplanetary power struggle. I know all three of us know that me being submissive doesn’t mean that Belters are all submissive, or that women are all submissive, or that Belter women are all submissive. But that doesn’t stop me from hearing Marco’s voice in my head. Filip’s voice. Calling me an Earther’s bitch.” Jim tensed with anger. She could hear his pulse speed up in his chest, or maybe her own. Both, together. The things Jim wanted to say played on his face like a movie screen: _you’re not my bitch._ _I would never treat you like that. I want to kill anyone who ever treated you like that._ “I know that’s their delusion, not mine. But it’s not so easy to separate what I know from how I feel.” Jim just nodded, and let what she said resonate between them until she sunk deeper into the warm water and laid her head on his shoulder, making it clear she wasn’t going to continue speaking. 

“Thank you for telling me that. I know you already know this, but if it helps to hear it out loud: there is no pressure to sub if it wouldn’t make you feel good.” 

“That’s the thing, though,” she said, finally making her labyrinthine way to her point. “Playing sub scares me shitless. But I can’t deny there’s… an impulse…” He raised his eyebrows in surprise, certainly having presumed their discussion was the explanation for why she didn’t sub, and not the preamble for her admission that she might. 

“What kind of impulse?” he asked hesitantly with squinted eyes. She breathed half of a laugh, the dense, impenetrable cloud of tension lifting to a light fog. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but she could see through it. Jim always had that effect on her. 

“The impulse that makes me come like a fucking nuclear warhead when you angry-screw me. Or when you get a little jealous and fuck me like you’re reminding me who I belong to. Or when Amos… does anything.” He laughed and nodded knowingly. She knew he understood the impulse. It had been the driving force behind most of his behavior for the past week, after all. “And I think I’ve been burying that need for a long time, because I’m afraid if I give up control for just a little while, I’ll lose it for good. But if I deny myself something I want, just because of what Marco took from me… that doesn’t feel like control, either.” 

Jim nodded, processing the confession. His arm wrapped around her— their naked bodies pressed together with no pressure to sexualize it— was a great comfort. The fog slowly lifted. 

“But,” Naomi filled the silence, trying to pivot the conversation away from the bitter taste of Marco’s name in her mouth, “I’ve been researching.” 

“Researching?” 

“BDSM,” she clarified. He blinked away the whiplash of the conversation. She felt his body unclench, like his own stormcloud of anxiety was dissolving along with hers. 

“Is that a euphemism for watching hardcore porn?” he teased. It felt good to laugh. 

“No. I mean, there were visuals involved,” she admitted, her cheeks warming. He squeezed her thigh. “But mostly reading. If we’re gonna do this thing, I want to do it right.”

“I appreciate that. I should probably do some reading myself. I’m way out of my element, here. I’ve just been enjoying the surprises. Did you read something that changed your mind?” 

“I just think I understand it better. The consent, communication, clear-cut rules. Being equals, even when you’re role playing that you’re not… it’s the opposite of what Marco was about. It’s about trust, not power. I trust you and Amos.”

“Does that mean you want to let Amos dom you? ‘Cause I’d offer, but I think I’d be shit at it.”

“You would, baby,” she said, ruffling his hair. He splashed her. “I don’t want to  _ let _ Amos do anything, but I’d like to try it. On easy mode. I’m thinking maybe we can do something like what we did before lunch today? Like, I was dominating both of you, but Amos was kinda in the middle, dominating you while being dominated by me? I think I wanna be… what Amos was. So I can give up control and hold onto it at the same time.” 

“You wanna beta.” 

“Sure, if that’s what it’s called. After a long, boring discussion about kinks and limits and safewords, I’d love to beta for you.” 

“That discussion’s overdue anyway. I’ve just been letting him do whatever he wants, and crossing my fingers that it doesn’t involve pissing in my mouth or calling you ‘mommy.’”

“I don’t know if I’m terrified or intrigued that those are your only hard limits.” 

“I’m sure there are others,” he said. She raised her eyebrows, expressing her doubt. “I don’t know. Most of the things I really wouldn’t do are things he wouldn’t ask me for.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m sure my list will be quite a bit longer,” she said. “I hope I’m not too boring for you kinky fuckers.” The statement was lighthearted, not some grand admission of insecurity or inferiority, but Jim looked at her like she was insane for saying it. 

“Please, even the most vanilla sex with you is ten times as exhilerating as any kinky fantasy I can come up with. And Amos would rather have five minutes with  _ one _ of your tits than twenty four hours doing whatever the fuck he wanted with me.” Naomi squinted at him, trying to decipher if he was speaking in jest. 

“You can’t possibly believe that’s true.” 

“Okay, I’m exaggerating. But  _ you _ can’t possibly believe he doesn't have a favorite.” Naomi looked at her lover with the kind of patience Kindergarten teachers use when their students say Ceres is made of cheese— that kind of endeared, harmless condescension that says  _ you’re wrong and it’s adorable. _ The first difficult conversation good as forgotten, Naomi now focused her attention on how the hell she was supposed to convince her toddler boyfriend that Amos didn’t like her better than him. 

“Maybe that’s why you two seem to be the ones having so much trouble making this work. You both think you come second to me.” 

“I told you, Amos and I sorted everything out. No more jealousy, I promise. We’re both okay coming second to you.” She rolled her eyes.  _ So close.  _

“Sure, it’s sorted for now. But as long as you can’t see you’re everything to each other, with or without me, the jealousy isn’t going to go away. And you can point it at each other, or at cute little waiters who look like you from the back, but it’ll be there, stewing until it boils over.”

“How do we make it go away?” Jim asked, his eyes wide and wet like a child’s, full of anxiety. 

“You stop convincing yourself you can’t have everything you want. Love isn’t a finite resource that you ration like water. Amos doesn’t have to love us fifty-fifty, or sixty-forty, or a hundred to zero. He loves you with everything he has, and me the same. The jealousy goes away when you can love us like that, too.” 

“I do!” he said, then: “don’t I?” 

“If I asked you to tell me you loved me more than you love Amos, would you?” 

“Yes,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. 

“And if Amos asked?” Jim swallowed and looked away, which meant he’d answered the question all on his own. 

“Maybe I’m not cut out for the polyamory thing,” he said softly. Naomi gave him that same teacher look once more, and shook her head. 

“I’ve never met anyone with more love to give, Jim. It’s not your mind, it’s your mindset. Stop acting like this is too good to be true, and you might find it’s not.” 

“You’re too good to be true,” Jim purred, then kissed her cheek. 

“No, baby boy,” she said, “I’m human. Too good to be true would be if I was this great  _ and _ I let you do anal.” 

She turned off the jets and stood to leave the tub. 

“Let’s go to bed,” she said as she toweled off. “You can work all this out in therapy tomorrow, while Amos is fucking your wife.” Still in the tub, he looked up at her. 

“Marry me for real,” he implored. 

“Propose to me for real, and we’ll talk.” 

* * *

When they snuggled into bed with Amos’s slumbering body, the tail end of a rom-com was projecting on the wall. 

“Watching porn, my ass,” Naomi mumbled to unhearing ears, smiling as she drifted off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fanfiction is about wish fulfillment. and i wish for jim holden to go to therapy.


	20. milkshakes, hentai, and the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovers evaluate their individual relationships to the institution of marriage. Also, Naomi and Amos watch hardcore animated pornography. This and more in chapter 20 of Room For Three.

“Therapy?” Amos asked through a spoonful of grits. “Been there. Who’d you punch?” 

“What? No, it’s not court ordered, Amos,” Holden informed him. ‘Court ordered’ was another one of those sayings that probably used to mean something literal, but evolved beyond the original definition. He’d never technically been in a court of law, but Amos had spent plenty of time in mandatory ‘behavioral rehabilitation sessions’ in the beginning of his career, by order of whoever his boss was at the time. Though, those were more about saying whatever he needed to for fifty minutes to get himself off the hook for starting a fight with whatever schmuck was in his way, because he was antsy and not used to space yet and had nothing better to do. He didn’t know why Holden would put himself through that on purpose. 

“Oh,” he vocalized casually, masking his confusion with another bite of the breakfast Holden made. “You seein’ ghosts again, then?” 

“No, don’t worry. I just… need to talk some things through, is all.” Amos wasn’t affronted, per se, but he felt an inkling of what might be likened to offense. Didn’t Holden know he could talk to Amos?

“You can talk to me,” Amos offered. “I can’t help much, but I don’t bill your health insurance.” Holden smiled. 

“Yeah? You’d sit for two hours and listen to me go through all of my traumatic memories, insecurities, and fears?” 

“Can we get milkshakes after?” Amos asked. It meant ‘yes.’ ‘Duh,’ even. 

“How about you and I get milkshakes this afternoon, and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about my feelings.” 

“Okay, yeah.” It sounded kind of like a date, but Amos doubted it was. Holden wouldn’t ask him on a date without Naomi. If they were going to spend time together without Naomi as a buffer, Amos figured it wouldn’t be for anything more than work or sex, and it probably wouldn’t happen unless Naomi had someplace else to be. He couldn’t get his hopes up for anything else. Surely, it wasn’t a date. 

“It’s a date,” said Holden.  _ Oh.  _

Amos finished his meal to the soundtrack of Holden telling him the value of therapy. By the end of the lecture, Amos was convinced that he couldn’t be a counselor for his boyfriend, not by the words Holden said, but by the fact that he hadn’t retained a single one of them. He  _ was  _ paying attention, however, when Holden threw his garbage into the recycler and said: 

“I gotta shower. You wanna join me, big guy? Be my hands?” Amos blinked. His eyes shifted from Holden to Naomi, then back to Holden. 

“Sure, little one. Get undressed for me, I’ll be right there.” When Holden was safely in the bedroom, he turned to Naomi. “Is it my birthday or something?”

“His guess is as good as yours. Why?” 

“First he asks me on a goddamn date, and it didn’t sound like you were invited. And now he asked _ me _ to shower with him when  _ you’re _ right there? Did you two fight after I went to sleep?” 

“No, we had a long talk about how much he likes you. He just wants to spend time with you,” she said. Then, as an after-thought, added: “... and maybe prove you don’t come second place to me.” Amos appreciated the sentiment, but it wasn’t really called for. He knew how highly Holden thought of Naomi, and rightfully so. Second place to that was a pretty awesome place to be. 

“I know where I rank. He doesn’t gotta prove otherwise.” 

“It’s not a competition,” she told him. 

“That’s just the thing, ain’t it? It’s not a competition, but if it was, you’d win it. So what’s the difference if it is or isn’t?” 

“If that were the case, why is he in our bedroom waiting for you and not me?” Amos didn’t have a good answer for that. Well, not if it wasn’t his birthday. He marinated for a moment in the mental image of Naomi— naked, soaped up, and soaking wet— and couldn’t imagine any red blooded human turning that down. He just shrugged. “It’s not a competition,” she repeated. “But if it was, sometimes you’d win, and sometimes I would. The only way we lose is if we keep score.” 

Amos liked that answer. It felt honest. He appreciated that Naomi never blew smoke in his face. She didn’t pretend they’d always tie, or dig her heels in and insist there’d never be times when they chose one partner over another for any reason. Amos needed Holden for some things and Naomi for others; it only made sense that they felt the same way. That wasn’t winning or losing, it was just being a human with needs. 

“You’re always right, Boss,” he said. 

“I know, my dear. Go collect your prize.” 

* * *

Holden was starting to think Amos wasn’t coming when he finally arrived. He lumbered blithely through the door, already in the process of peeling his shirt from his torso, and tilted his head toward the bathroom door with a look that asked Holden what he was waiting for. Holden, having been naked already for some time, was more bashful in his movements as he followed in the big guy’s trail. 

Amos’s soapy hands roved over Holden’s skin, and the captain learned anew how glorious it felt to stand under the spotlight of the mechanic’s attention. For a split second, he was jealous of  _ the Rocinante;  _ he longed for the pleasure of being taken apart by those hands, only to be carefully repaired again. The raw, brutish sexuality of Amos was known by Holden for some time, but he’d only just learned of the untapped wealth of  _ sensuality _ beneath the surface— a tenderness that only manifested when cultivated. Holden made a silent vow to nurture that gentle giant as long as he lived. 

Those calloused, workman’s fingertips avoided Holden’s pleasure centers with intention as they made their labyrinthine way over the landscape of his flesh— working over his pecs but not his nipples, the tops of the backs of his thighs but not his ass, the V-shaped dips that trailed down from his iliac crest, but not his cock. Holden might’ve hated the tension if he didn’t love the tease. He never wanted to shower without Amos again. He never wanted to do anything without Amos again. He disappeared into the euphoria. 

* * *

Amos didn’t like feeling nervous, so he decided not to think about his first real date alone with Holden. He pushed the thought of it to the back of his mind and focused on the task of picking up lunch for himself and Naomi. 

A wounded whine gave him pause as he stood in front of the hotel room with to-go bags in his hands. It was a distinctly feminine voice, but it wasn’t Naomi’s. He smirked as he recognized the sound. 

Naomi was watching hardcore porn with the same attentive expression she wore as she deciphered the clues of a detective movie to solve the puzzle before anyone in the film did. If Amos wasn’t seeing the naked, animated woman projected on the screen, on her back with her thighs bound to her chest as she was fucked from both ends, he might’ve thought Naomi was contemplating a particularly tricky trivia question. 

“Never pegged you for a hentai fiend,” Amos commented as he settled in next to Naomi and dug through one of the bags to retrieve their lunch. The quiet sound of grunting harmonized with the loud sound of choking, and Amos took a bite of his falafel sandwich. 

The animation was realistic, but not so that it was uncanny, like a high-end video game. The brunette woman’s proportions were on the exaggerated side of human— a slender waist with big tits and full curves. The pale swells of her breasts and ass were marked with red handprints, her throat and pelvis bulging in the shape of the massive cocks that penetrated her. 

“I’m not,” she said. “The real girls made me sad.” Amos chuckled. The anime beauty whined as the faceless, nameless cock-haver pulled out of her pussy and pressed into her ass. Amos smirked, and nudged Naomi jokingly with his elbow. 

“Ha, maybe if I was an anime girl,” she rejected. It was worth a shot. 

There was a jump-cut, and the position changed so the girl could be shared between three men at a time, unbound. Naomi was still scrutinizing, though her breathing had changed, and she was sweating, so Amos figured she was getting something out of the picture, or just very viscerally unnerved. Amos’s cock was hard to the point of desperation, but it felt somehow like it’d be impolite to do anything about that, so he just kept eating his Mediterranean food. 

“Is this what you like?” he asked her after a while. She wasn’t touching herself. Amos was pretty sure touching yourself was supposed to be the point of this kind of thing. It was one of the very rare occasions where he was confident that he wasn’t the one being weird. 

“No,” she said, not pulling her eyes from the screen. 

“Didn’t think so. Why are we watching it?” 

“Curiosity, mostly.” 

“Okay.” He sipped his soda. “You horny?” 

“I’m not sure anymore,” she said. Amos didn’t know what that meant. Loud, whining moans told him the girl on the screen didn’t have a dick in her mouth anymore, but Amos was still looking at Naomi. He wanted her to touch herself. “Do guys like that? The fire siren noises?” 

“Is this some kind of research project?” he asked. 

“Something like that. Do guys like the... wailing?”

“I don’t know what normal guys like.” 

“Do you like it?” she revised. 

“Nah.” Amos didn’t like it when people feigned pleasure. He relied on signals like moans and sighs to know if he was doing a good job, and fake ones just made that hard. “I like the sounds you make.” 

“I don’t make sounds.” 

“Sure ya do. Your breath hitches all pretty. You gasp when you come, like you didn’t know you could do that. Then you sigh, purr a little when it’s over. I like that.” 

“You’re attentive,” she said. Amos shrugged. 

“Sure, when there’s something good to pay attention to.” She seemed pleased by that, curled up like a kitten into his side. Cuddling while watching porn was a new thing. Felt wrong. 

“Do you like this?” she asked. He looked at the screen again for the first time in a while. The girl was restrained again— which Amos thought was a weird decision, continuity wise— this time with her hands tied to her ankles out to the sides and a ball gag in her mouth as a cat o’ nine flogger came down on her tits. She actually looked like she was enjoying it, giggling around the red plastic between her full lips. Amos had been hit with all kinds of floggers in his day. Even he didn’t like it  _ that _ much. 

“Not my usual viewing pleasure, but I like watchin’ porn with you.” 

“Why?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugged with his hands. “S’dirty. Would be better if you put on something you actually liked, let me watch you play with yourself, but this is fun.” 

“You’d rather watch me watch porn than watch porn?” 

“In a heartbeat, yeah,” he said. 

“Huh.” 

“What’s got you so curious that you’re watching hentai in the middle of the day instead of eatin’ your shawarma?” 

Naomi commanded the system to shut down, silencing the emphatic whining moans and blacking out the screen. She pulled away from him and took a deep breath, the way Amos had noticed people did when they were about to say something that wasn’t so easy to say. 

“Jim and I talked last night, and…” she trailed off. Amos tensed. Good things don’t usually start like that. “I think I want to try being submissive.”  _ Shit, _ Amos thought,  _ well that’s nothing.  _

“Oh,” he said. “Cool. So you were watching cartoon porn to learn… what BDSM isn’t?” 

“Well the non-cartoon porn just seemed like wanton violence.” 

“Boss, you are the smartest person I know. And not just ‘cause Holden and Alex are a little dumb. How do you not know that you don’t learn about sex by watching porn?” Naomi sighed with her whole body. 

“I know that,” she said, resignation laced in her tone. “I just thought it might help me decide if the idea was for me. But all it did was make me want to kiss those girls on the forehead and tuck them in for a nap.” 

“Mmm, maybe give them a nice, warm bath… rub lotion on their abused tits… make all the pain go away…” She gave him a playful shove. 

“Oh, relax. It’s just that you and Jim just seem to know exactly what you want. I thought porn might give me some idea what I want. But I’ve still got nothing.” 

“Okay. Then we’ll start with what you don’t like.” Amos pulled out his hand terminal to a note-taking app and started typing. “I got animated bondage porn and anal. What else?” 

* * *

Naomi thought the discussion would be scarier, but Amos made it fun. He never acted disappointed when she didn’t want to do something, only grateful and excited when they found something she did. His gentle, accepting guidance was more arousing than any porn she’d ever seen, and as the conversation went on, Naomi grew desperate to stop talking about it and just make it happen. Amos was more than accommodating of that. 

She had told him not to hold her head down and fuck her face, so he didn’t. She had told him she liked it when he called her ‘good girl,’ so he did. She had told him not to be rough with her clit, so he wasn’t. She had told him she liked it when he was rough with her tits, so he was. He taught her, without a single word, that she didn’t have to give up her autonomy to give up control. 

He dominated her with a tender firmness, unlike the intimidation he wielded against Jim, but equally erotic. He reminded her that she was owned, without ever saying it out loud. More than that— he reminded her she was taken care of. Naomi hadn’t known dominance could be that. 

When Amos finished, painting her slick lips with streaks of come, it was more playful than degrading. Still gross, though. 

* * *

Holden was sitting across from Fred Johnson at his reserved table at a way-too-fancy restaurant when his comm pinged with a photo attachment. He made the mistake of looking at it. 

Fondness, arousal, and embarrassment competed for dominance in Holden as he glanced at the picture of Naomi with jizz on her face before quickly swiping it away so his companion couldn’t see it. At first, Holden couldn’t believe she let Amos degrade her like that, let alone take photographic evidence. But then it dawned on him that it was probably less to humiliate Naomi than it was to make fun of Holden, which was actually pretty characteristic for them both. Fondness won the race by a mile, and he smiled as he put his hand terminal away. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Fred asked, the dreaded question. 

“Just Amos being Amos,” he dismissed, hoping it would be the end of it. He and Fred had become pretty close over the course of their kind of mentor-mentee relationship, but that didn’t usually extend to matters of sex and romance. He hadn’t even told the man about his new thing with Amos. 

“Huh, I would’ve guessed Naomi.” 

“Yeah. So would I. It’s been a weird week,” he said, then clarified: “good weird.” Fred sipped his tea pensively. 

“Maybe it’s time to reconsider my advice,” he offered cryptically.

“Is this about skin care again? ‘Cause I bought that moisturizer you recommended.” 

“And you’ll thank me for that in thirty years. You don’t get to look this good at seventy on a wing and a prayer. But I’m talking about slowing down. Retiring.” 

“Right,” Holden acknowledged, sipping his coffee. “Moving to Ganymede and starting a farm. I remember.” 

“Or something,” Fred said. “Take your girlfriend, and your… whatever Amos is...”

“Boyfriend,” Holden said definitively, to Fred’s surprise and somewhat to his own. 

“...And your boyfriend, start a life. Stop running so goddamn fast. Be happy.” 

When Fred had given him that schpiel the first time, Holden hadn’t even considered it. There had just been too much shit going on, and no matter what Fred tried to convince him, Holden  _ was _ at the center of it. He knew himself, and he’d never be able to live happily if he vanished when it seemed like he was needed most. But things had calmed down considerably. There was no big terror looming over his head. He, Naomi, Amos, Bobbie, Alex, and Clarissa had been fucking around for months while the Rocinante took its sweet time in the docks getting fixed, and the sky hadn’t fallen even once.

Holden took a moment to picture it— retirement. Despite knowing that a Ganymede farm looked very little like the Earth equivalent, his mind’s eye conjured a wide open space like the kingdom he grew up on, only without the pressures and the politics of his childhood. He pictured bringing Naomi and Amos lemonade as they worked together repairing a car in the garage, sweat and grease on their foreheads as they toiled. He pictured teaching Naomi to drive it when it was fixed, assuming he could remember how after all this time. He’d probably get to teach Amos, too. He pictured reading on the porch, real, hard copies of classic books, maybe trying his hand at writing one like he’d always dreamed of doing before life got weird and hard. He heard Amos’s voice calling him a nerd with that teasing affectation that really meant ‘I love you.’ He pictured picnic blankets and tire swings, stargazing, swimming, wild strawberry-picking, catching lightning bugs in jars, and baking apple pies. He pictured Alex, Bobbie, and Clarissa contented with loving partners, in homes just down the road, living whatever their versions of perfect might be. He pictured a wedding. He pictured a baby girl that was part Naomi, part Holden, and part Amos— though, he hoped, mostly Naomi. 

He saw through the fantasy of it all. Naomi couldn’t go to Earth, and Amos wouldn’t. Holden didn’t even think he wanted to, himself. Maybe if Earth was anything like the picture in his head, but it wasn’t, and never had been. There was no such place as the heaven he described. It didn’t matter. Even that didn’t sound any better than what he already had at his fingertips.

“I’m already happy,” he told Fred. The older man looked him over with a tired kind of affection in the crinkled corners of his eyes, and nodded. 

“Then I’m happy for you.”

* * *

Alone in the apartment, Naomi unwinded in one of Amos’s tee shirts, flipping through shows to decide on something to watch. Curiosity overcame her, inspired by the guilty pleasure she’d caught him indulging the night before, and she found herself snooping through Amos’s watch history.  _ Huh, _ she thought,  _ someone’s really got a thing for romantic comedies. Who’da guessed?  _ Then some bridal-themed flick caught her eye, and reminded her of last night’s conversation with Jim. 

_Marry me for real,_ Holden had said. The proposal had no weight to it. It was just something he suggested once every couple of years, with no real pressure or expectation behind it. Naomi’s own reaction was what surprised her. _Propose to me for real, and we’ll talk._

Naomi didn’t put much stock in the institution of marriage. As far as she was concerned, calling Jim and Amos her “husbands” was more than enough to make it so. They were married, she thought, in the same way their ship was the  _ Rocinante, _ even when Mars was still calling it the  _ Tachi _ . It was legitimate to them, so it was legitimate. 

Jim, of course, never pressured her to sign any papers, or attend any ceremony. He did his best to understand the cultural differences between them, and chose to lean into Belter customs rather than to pull her into Earther ones. Legal marriage was an old Terran practice, that endured in part due to its role in their antiquated legal system, and in part due to an irrational obsession with the concept of tradition. In space, marriage was more akin to incorporation, something shared between parents for custody reasons or among the crew of a ship for financial ones. Naomi felt more inclined to marry Jim, Amos, Alex, Bobbie, and Clarissa together— like the non-sexual arrangement Jim’s parents had, or the half-romance half-business ketubah Camina Drummer had recently joined with five others— than to marry Jim alone, or even Jim and Amos. She knew what it was like to feel bound to a man, and didn’t want to recreate that feeling. 

But her conversation with Jim the night before, combined with Amos’s compassionate approach to sexual domination, and her own introspection, caused her to reevaluate that assessment. The idea of “belonging” to Jim and Amos suddenly felt more liberating than confining. She wasn’t an object belonging to an owner. She was a part belonging to a whole.

Naomi tried to picture her future with Jim and Amos. Jim, no doubt, would picture a house on a farm and a kid and maybe a dog, some quaint American dream that even he would probably hate if it ever came true, but that looked pretty in his imagination. Amos would shrug, say he was more of a play-it-by-ear kinda guy, but that he was down for whatever as long as they got to screw some more. Naomi found she aligned herself more with the Amos side of that coin, actually. She didn’t know what her future looked like, only that Jim and Amos should be in it.

Maybe that meant it was time to get over her hang-ups about commitment, and just dive in. After all, Jim had been treading in the deep-end waiting for her for seven years, and even Amos was dipping his toes in. She still didn’t want to be conventionally “married.” But she had an idea… 

* * *

“What did I say about sending unsolicited pornography in the middle of the afternoon?” Holden asked by way of greeting, using the kind of scolding, hushed tone that felt like a yell, no matter how quiet it was. Holden sat down across from him, behind the milkshake Amos had ordered for him. Coffee flavored, obviously.

“Don’t do it to Naomi?” Amos answered innocently, at full volume. He took his first sip of the chocolate peanut butter shake he’d been patiently waiting to enjoy as Holden frowned at him. 

“I guess I assumed it was implied that you shouldn’t do it to me, either.”

“Sorry, bug. Did I ruin your daddy-daughter date?” he teased. Holden flipped him off. 

“Funny,” he deadpanned. He made a indulgent, appetized sound as he swallowed his first sip of milkshake. “So. You want the play-by-play of my therapy, or just the highlights?” Amos had forgotten that had been the pretense for their date. He didn’t really need to be Holden’s therapist. He’d just wanted to be his friend. 

“You don’t have to give me either,” Amos said. “Just wanted you to know you could. I’m good for more than just hot sex.” 

“I know, big guy. You’ve always been there for me, don’t think I never noticed.” 

“Just checking,” Amos said, then took another big slurping sip of his drink. There was a long, awkward silence. Holden kept looking like he wanted to say something, then chickened out. Amos put his big hand over Holden’s smaller one, nudged their feet together under the table.  _ You can say anything, _ Amos tried to communicate telepathically.  _ It’s just me.  _

“This milkshake is really good,” Holden said. It wasn’t exactly what Amos was looking for.

“Glad you like it.” 

“I like it when you order things for me. You know what I want without me having to ask for it.”

“Only you could manage to be subby about a milkshake.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… you pay attention.” Naomi had said the same thing. 

Amos didn’t consider himself to be an attentive person, in general, but he wasn’t as spacey as people seemed to think he was. He had simply learned, over the course of a long life that wasn’t always so fun to pay attention to, which moments and minutiae were worth his time. Amos was used to flying under the radar like a cockroach on the floor, noticing and going unnoticed as he crept and crawled through the cracks of the Baltimore concrete. Even in space, until the latter decade of his career, he found it most practical to shrink himself as small as his big body would go, to be useful when he was needed and absent when he wasn’t. But he did pay attention, when it mattered to him, which is why he paid attention to Naomi and Holden. 

“Only when there’s something worth payin’ attention to,” he said, the same thing he said to Naomi. It was true. He found that he was really enjoying the pursuit of making Holden and Naomi happy. It made him feel like a whole person. Holden smiled, so he smiled back. 

“What do you think about marriage?” Holden said suddenly. It was a weird choice, as far as non sequiturs went. Amos eyed him suspiciously. 

“What’s the question behind the question?” Holden hummed in contemplation. 

“Do you see marriage in your future?” he rephrased. Amos honestly hadn’t thought about it. He liked it when Naomi called him her husband. He decided that he’d like it very much if Holden called him that, too. Maybe that meant yes. 

“I’m more of a carpe diem kinda guy. You askin’ me to marry you, brother? ‘Cause I’m free right now.” 

“Something tells me Naomi might feel a little left out if we showed up back at the room with wedding bands on,” Holden rejected, but he looked all pleased and flustered by the proposal, which Amos liked.

“Right, right,” Amos agreed, “plus I gotta ask Daddy Fred for your hand first.” 

“Fred is not my—” Holden grimaced instead of saying the d-word, which made Amos chuckle. “Shut up.” 

“I just think your sugar daddy should get a say. Maybe I’m old fashioned.” 

“Forget I said anything,” he pouted. Amos moved to Holden’s side of the booth and scooped him up into a big hug. When Holden finally melted into the embrace, forgetting whatever half-tantrum he was ready to throw, Amos angled his lips close to the captain’s ear and said: 

“I’ll marry you whenever, baby boy.” 

“Really?” Holden asked, with that wide-eyed dollface of his, like a kid promised candy.

“Sure, if the boss is into it.”

“Mmm,” Holden purred happily, snuggling closer. “What about kids?”

“Don’t push it, Hole.” 

* * *

Holden had an idea...


	21. rings and things

Holden and Amos were on the couch, doing the thing where their bodies were pressed together all cozy-like, in a non-sexual capacity. Holden called the activity  _ snuggling, _ but that set Amos’s insides ablaze in a terrifying way that he didn’t want to examine, so he steered clear of the verb. Naomi called that feeling  _ butterflies, _ but Amos didn’t like that either. He liked being close to Holden, though. He didn’t need to label that. 

Naomi was off somewhere doing work with Drummer’s engineering team, which she’d been doing a lot more of over the past week. She had pretended, as always, to dread leaving— said Drummer just desperately needed her help and there was nothing she could do about it— but Amos and Holden both saw through that. The fact of the matter was that Naomi got antsy when there was nothing to do. Neither of them took it personally; they were usually the same way. But lately, Holden and Amos had been content to lounge around together (at least in between rounds of creative and athletic sex) discovering how they fit together as romantic partners. 

“Since when do you like romantic comedies so much?” Holden asked as he surfed through the curated suggestions on Amos’s Kwikflix account. 

“I don’t,” answered Amos honestly, though he understood that the screen ahead of them made that look like a lie. He wasn’t ashamed to be perceived as the kind of guy who would like those kinds of movies, he just wasn’t. He didn’t really like movies at all; he didn’t have the attention span. 

“Yeah right,” dismissed Holden a smirk that said he was totally misunderstanding. Amos was surprised to find himself wanting his boyfriend to understand. 

“How do you know you’re doing the right thing in a relationship?” he asked. Holden seemed affected by the apparent change in subject, but it was directly related in Amos’s brain. 

“I don’t know,” said Holden casually, unhelpfully. 

“Think about it.” 

“No, I mean… I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing,” he explained. “I never know for sure.”

“Well, Naomi hasn’t left you yet,” Amos said. Then, after a minor realization: “Well, not permanently anyway.” 

“Guess I’m lucky,” he said. Amos shook his head. 

“Ain’t luck. You’ve got good instincts. Treat people well as a reflex. I don’t got that.” 

“Sure you do,” Holden tried to reassure, but he didn’t look certain about it. Amos didn’t like when Holden did that— denied what was true to say what was nice. It was a side-effect of that instinctual kindness that left a bad taste in Amos’s mouth. Amos wasn’t a good person. Holden was allowed to love him despite that, but he wasn’t allowed to deny that it was true. 

“No, I really don’t. I’m outta my element here. I don’t got a frame of reference for bein’ a boyfriend.” Amos could see the moment it dawned on Holden, how this had anything to do with Amos’s streaming history. 

“So you watched a bunch of cheesy romantic movies to learn how to act in a relationship,” Holden summarized aloud as he connected the dots. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Amos admitted. 

“Did it help?” 

“Not even a little bit,” he said. By and large, the men in those movies weren’t even interesting or likeable enough to warrant being love interests, let alone role models for boyfriend behavior. “But it wasn’t like I could just ask you.” 

“Sure you could’ve,” insisted Holden. “You can ask me anything.” 

“Hmm… okay,” Amos supposed. He didn’t think that was totally the case, but he could try it out. “Are glory holes cheating?” 

“What?” Holden blinked at him. Amos shrugged. 

“It’s a hole in the wall that you put your—”

“No, I know what a glory hole is. Yes. Oral sex with someone who isn’t me or Naomi is cheating. Did you put your dick in a glory hole?” 

“Nah. There’s one at that bar we went to, got me thinkin’ about it.” 

“Is that something you’re interested in doing?” Holden asked. He seemed worried. Amos pulled him closer. 

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ sound. 

“Should I be worried that we’ve been together for like two weeks and my husband is already looking for loopholes to suck cocks that aren’t mine?” Amos wasn’t looking for any kind of loophole. He’d actually kind of been trying to prove that he couldn’t ask Holden just anything without him reading something into it and getting worried. He’d proven exactly that, but found himself disinclined to point it out. Instead, he zeroed in on one particular word. 

“Your husband, huh?” 

“Thought I’d try it out,” Holden said timidly. Amos grinned. 

“How’d it feel?” 

“I like it.” 

“Me too,” Amos said. “Alright. I guess I won’t suck any strange, disembodied glory hole cocks.” 

“What a noble sacrifice,” Holden snarked. 

“Anything for my husband.” Happily, Holden nuzzled against Amos, like trying to get closer even though there was no more space between them. It reminded Amos of a dog trying to dig into a concrete floor. 

“Forget the rom-coms, okay? Just treat us the way you want to be treated. We trust you,” he said, like it was that simple, like he was tying their whole conversation neatly into a bow. All it actually served to do was prove that Holden didn’t get it. Amos sighed, wishing the husband part could’ve been the end of it. But he’d made a promise to communicate, so he said what he was thinking. 

“Everyone says that. That’s terrible advice.” 

“Why?”

“People don’t wanna be treated the way I wanna be treated. People wanna be treated the way  _ they _ wanna be treated.” Holden looked something like confused, so Amos explained: “Like, take glory holes. If you told me you went out and got on your knees for some random anonymous pervert in a bar, just ‘cause you were so hungry for cock that you couldn’t wait ‘til you got home? I’d think that is the hottest shit I’ve ever heard. Or hell, fuck anonymous. You could drop to your knees for Bobbie for all I care, or fuckin’ Alex. You could tell me your little lunch date with Fred Johnson last week was actually a booty call, and all I’d ask for is details.”

“Gross.” 

“Agree to disagree. But the point is, I don’t give a shit if you cheat on me. But if I cheated on you and Naomi, that’d be the worst thing I could do.” 

“Are you asking me for permission to cheat? Because I—” 

“No, Jim. I’m saying we don’t have the same instincts. I ain’t a natural boyfriend. And I know you think you can handle that now, but I’m telling you, one day you’re going to be crying or some shit, and I’m not gonna know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about that.”  _ And I’m gonna get it wrong, and you’re gonna yell at me for that, and I’m not gonna know if I’m supposed to defend myself or leave it alone. And maybe you’ll say something that makes me think we’re over, and maybe I’ll go fuck somebody else to blow off steam, ‘cause it ain’t cheating if we broke up. And then you’ll tell me we weren’t actually over in the first place but now we are because I cheated on you. Or something.  _ “And that’s not going to be a good day,” he said, in lieu of the details. 

Amos didn’t know when he went from the guy who hadn’t felt fear since he was five to the guy who was so afraid of losing his boyfriend that it made it hard to breathe. Holden could have a gun to his head, (or, more realistically, someone who was actually scary could have a gun to his head) and Amos would be all even keel about it. But the thought of losing Holden and Naomi made his heart feel like it was beating its way out of his chest with a machete.

“They don’t all have to be good days,” Holden told him. “As long as we’re willing to stay through the bad ones.” 

“I think I am.” 

“Good. Me too. We’ve been through this before. One day, you’re going to do something wrong. And I’m gonna forgive you for it. You know why?” 

“Why?”

“Because one day, I’m gonna do something wrong. And so is Naomi. All three of us, we’ll take turns doing something wrong over and over again for the rest of our lives. And every time, we’ll forgive each other.”

“You sure?” Amos asked. 

“I’m sure. If I can forgive you for putting the mental image of Fred Johnson’s penis is my head, I’m pretty sure I can forgive you for anything.” 

“Oh, don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it.” Holden flicked Amos playfully, and dismissed the issue. 

“I know these big, long discussions aren’t your favorite thing. I appreciate you having them with me.” 

“That’s important in a marriage, right?” 

“Right,” Holden said, pleased. Then his face changed in some way that Amos couldn’t pinpoint. “About that. I wanted to run something by you.” 

“Shoot.” 

“If I asked you to marry me, like for real, would you say yes?” 

“That’s a very underwhelming proposal, Jim. If the movies are anything to go off of, you’re supposed to do it on Christmas.” 

“Do you know when Christmas is?” Holden challenged. Amos did not.

“Winter, I think.” 

“Do you know what season it is now?”

“Nope.” 

“Then Christmas is this Saturday at dinnertime,” Holden said. Amos didn’t know what day of the week it was, either, but he didn’t say that. He could check later. 

“Shit, better get shopping then.” 

“I wanted to ask you first. I know it’s only been a few weeks—” 

“It’s been seven years,” Amos corrected. Holden’s smile was contagious. 

“Is that a yes? You’ll say yes?” he asked excitedly. Amos pondered it. 

“By ‘for real,’ you mean legally?” he asked. 

“I haven't decided yet. I don’t think Naomi would be crazy about the paperwork part, and I have an inkling you’re not thrilled about it either,” Holden perceived. He was right. “I was thinking more like rings? And maybe some kind of party. Nothing binding or ceremonious.”

“Then I’m in,” Amos said with a smile. “But I’m not renting a tux.” 

“Deal. Help me pick out rings?” 

“Sure, bug.” 

* * *

Amos didn’t remember where Holden had gone, only that he wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be coming back soon. He knew Naomi was with Drummer, either working as always or having an illicit seven-some with her and her five hot spouses. The former was probably more likely, but he chose to focus on the latter. He was fantasizing about exactly that when he got a photo message from Naomi. 

_ come find me, _ the message read. The picture was taken of her reflection in a mirror, her slender body drowning in the luxurious plush of a dark green robe. Amos recognized the garment as a Christmas gift from Alex a couple years prior. They each had one of their own, engraved with the Rocinante logo on the breast (though Amos was pretty sure it was less of a gift and more of a pointed message to Amos to stop walking to the head in his briefs when he went to shower. Amos countered by wearing the robe with nothing underneath, and never closing it. Alex hadn’t bought him a Christmas present since.) The one Naomi wore would be several sizes too big even for Holden, which meant it was Amos’s. The belt made a big bow around her waist, reminiscent of a present to be unwrapped. 

As far as scavenger hunts went, it wasn’t particularly puzzling. If she had Amos’s robe, she’d been in his quarters, so she was on the ship. He made a b-line to the docks to collect his prize. On his way, he received another ping on his device. 

_ before i get started without you, _ Naomi wrote, accompanied by a picture of a familiarly non-descript black bag, sitting on what looked like one of the med-bay autodoc chairs. In the two weeks it had been since their fated encounter at the sex toy store nearest their room on Tycho, they’d become frequent customers of the establishment. Amos thought that a long stretch of paid leave was the perfect occasion to stock up on supplies for their next long trip to whatever planet Holden saw fit to drag them out to, a reasonable preparation which Naomi mockingly called “Doomsday planning for perverts,” even as she participated in it. Amos insisted the two of them would thank him when they were facing down another year floating through the vacuum of space without a pit stop to pick up a vibrating butt-plug. Their collection lived in a chest beside their bed that Amos had lovingly labelled  _ JIM’S SEXY FUNTIME BOX _ . (When Holden complained about that, he crossed it out and wrote  _ TAX INFORMATION. _ It was unconvincing. Amos didn’t think they had any reason to hide.) The bag meant Naomi had picked up a new item for their stash, and the caption meant it was something she could play with on her own. Amos delighted in imagining the possibilities as he sped through the crowd. 

When Amos made it to where the Rocinante was docked, he was immediately reminded that the ship wasn’t deserted, even though its crew wasn’t home. The whole reason they were afforded such a lengthy vacation was that their last job left the ship unsailable without a few months of attention from a hired crew. Amos could see half a dozen people working from the outside of the ship— some he recognized and some he didn’t, though none with names he remembered— and surely there were a few more inside. (It was a big job, and Fred had treated it as a priority, hiring a big staff. Holden said that was so he could keep using them to do his bidding as soon as possible. Amos just figured he did it because that’s what sugar daddies are for.) What that meant to Amos, was that Naomi was inviting him to have sex in a communal space on a ship that wasn’t unoccupied. Intriguing. He made his way to the med bay. 

He knocked on the door, and Naomi’s voice commanded it to slide open. 

“Hey Boss,” he greeted, taking in the sight of Naomi standing before him in his own robe. It took him a second, as it always did, to register that he was allowed to touch her. He’d spent a decade admiring the way she looked, the way she moved, the way the light reflected off her skin, all from a distance. He’d been content for all that time to be allowed in her proximity, to breathe the air she breathed, to exist like a planet in her orbit. Now, as he approached with timid steps, he felt like he was breaching a contract. Feeling the adrenaline rush of rebellion, he tugged at the tail of the robe’s bow-tied belt. 

The robe collapsed into a plush pile around her ankles. Amos had never been so aware of the muscles in his throat as they contracted. His pupils traveled slowly over her body, taking in the view of Naomi’s new lingerie. Her skin shone through the mesh of the lace bra, the swells of her tits spilling nicely into them like liquid filling a glass. The darker tone of her nipple was unconcealed in each cup, like begging to be cradled between a thumb and a forefinger. A thick band of flat torso stood out between the bra’s low band and the suspender belt’s high waist, decorated with a peek at the geometric tattoos that only Amos and Holden got to see. Amos hooked a finger under the strap that connected the belt to her stockings and pulled at it, letting it snap against her skin, just to try it. She giggled. 

“A little birdy told me green was your favorite color,” she said. 

“If it wasn’t before, it is now,” he answered, not making eye contact. He was stuck in a staring contest with the teeny bow in the center of her panties’ waistband. The emerald of the lace gave her an air of royalty— one that was well-earned, queenly. On another body, the color might look wicked. On her, it looked warm. 

“So…” said Naomi, letting Amos know he should probably be saying something. It was hard to make his brain work for anything other than trying not to drool.

“You look…” he started, but wasn’t so good with adjectives. He asked himself what Holden would say.  _ Breathtaking,  _ maybe.  _ Majestic. _ Both true, but they didn’t feel quite right. 

“Pretty?” she suggested. Amos didn’t know if she was making fun of him or not. 

“Would that be the right thing to say?” 

“Doesn’t need to be,” she claimed. Amos was confused by that.

“It doesn’t?” he asked. Naomi shook her head. 

“I’ve been with the guy who always said the right thing,” she told him. At first Amos thought she was talking about Holden, but the ocean of sadness in her eyes said Marco. “He never meant any of it.” 

Amos just nodded. He knew the type. Amos had known plenty of men who talked a lot but said very little, and meant even less. He hated those guys. 

“I don’t ever need you to say what you think I want to hear,” she continued. “I want you to say whatever you wanna say.” Amos contemplated that, his eyes struggling to keep contact with Naomi’s, then giving up the fight. 

“What if I don’t wanna talk at all?” he asked, pulling her close by the straps of her garter belt to make very clear what he wanted to do instead. 

“Then let’s stop talking,” she said with a smirk. When she kissed him, he took the cue and ran with it— picking her up by the backs of her thighs and carrying her as they kissed to the nearest surface, an autodoc chair. There was a ferocity to the way they came together, like ships on a collision course, hands grabbing anywhere they could find purchase. Amos moved like on auto-pilot, his clothes disappearing mysteriously, as he couldn’t bring his attention away long enough to notice he was taking them off. Naomi’s lingerie stayed on. 

Naomi was half-panting, half-laughing as she pulled away. He laughed with her, though he didn’t know why. His body wasn’t obeying any direction from his brain other than  _ keep kissing her forever and never stop. _

“You’re not wondering why I brought you here?” she asked coyly. 

“Figured it was ‘cause you like getting fucked in public places.” 

“Hey. Semi-public places,” she corrected. “And that’s only part of it.” 

“I wouldn’t call the dancefloor of a crowded club a semi-public place, but go on.” 

“I can’t be held accountable for any decisions I made under the influence of tequila,” she dismissed. “But we’re here for these.” Naomi tugged on the autodoc’s restraint cuffs. Amos tensed. 

Amos had very few limits, sexually. It just so happened that the few things he wouldn’t do were kind of on the tame side. He was totally on board to get brutalized, just as long as he had total control of his senses and body parts, which meant restraints were a hard pass. It also ruled out blindfolds, and being woken up in the morning with sex. Acknowledging the disproportionality of his willingness to wear a cock ring to a handcuff didn’t change anything about it. 

“Relax, baby. They’re for me,” Naomi said, reading his mind. “Want you to tie me down.” She went through the process of unclipping the suspenders from her stockings to remove her panties, then clipped everything back in place. It wasn’t a sexy motion, but it was Naomi, so it was. Unburdened of the green lace, she positioned herself so her arms rested in their cuffs, her feet in the stirrups. 

He ghosted a knuckle over her cunt— a teasing little motion that said _ I want this,  _ without taking it just yet— then focused his attention on fastening the restraints. He took loving care with each limb: massaging, tightening, testing, massaging again. He pulled the stockings from her legs slowly, kissing every revealed inch of skin. 

“You should get your toenails painted more often,” he commented as he worked his magic on an ankle. “Looks nice.” 

“In a compliment way or in a foot fetish way?” she asked. 

“Half and half,” he joked. Amos was finding that he really liked getting to crack jokes and make casual comments during sex. It was a perk of fucking his best friends that he hadn’t considered. The raw intensity of BDSM was fun, but playful, casual sex with someone he knew intimately was a new experience for Amos, and he was becoming addicted to it. They could flip on a dime from hot and heavy passion to lighthearted fun in a way that was uniquely theirs. “Nah. I ain’t really into feet. Just that I appreciate pretty things.”

“We should go get our nails done together, then.” 

“Sure,” he said. “Though, I might be dangerous with claws,” he said, running the worn stubs of his natural nails up the inside of her thigh. She shivered. 

“We’ll stick to pedicures, then.” 

She was completely restrained, on display with her legs bent and parted in the stirrups. Amos had expected it to feel medical— even gynecological— to have her like that, but the lingerie made it anything but. The sight of her made his breath hitch. He took a moment to absorb it, like Dorothy and company marvelling at the entrance to Emerald City. His eyes scanned from the treasure map of her clavicle tattoos, over the concealed curves of her breasts and the bared dip of her navel, finding focus between her parted legs. He could feel her expectant pupils burning toward him, though he didn’t take even a second to meet them. Instead, he memorized the complexities of her folds, admired their slickness, the richness of their color. He fell in love with her form. He didn’t know a body could be so precious. 

“Fight against them for me,” Amos said of the restraints. She wiggled and writhed to test them, and he fell in love anew with the way her body moved. There was nothing smooth or godlike about the motion; it was natural. Human. She didn’t deserve to be so restricted, though there was something glorious about that, too. “Too tight, too loose?” 

“Perfect.”

“Safe word?” he asked. They’d talked at length about her limits and his, though they’d never settled on an exit strategy. It felt wrong to just apply Holden’s safe word to her, when the things they did together were so different.

“‘Please let me out?’” she offered.

“Works for me,” he said. “You trust me to let you out if you tell me to?” 

“Yes, Amos,” she said, impatiently, like he should already know. He did know Naomi trusted him, even if he didn’t always agree that she should. He still needed the reminder. 

“You sure?” 

“Are you sure you’ve dominated a woman before?” she teased. 

“Not one I loved,” he said quietly. Her face reacted to that. She looked sad, but wasn’t. 

“Then this’ll be a first for both of us,” she decided. Amos nodded. “Now eat my pussy or something.” 

“Sure thing, boss,” he said with a grin, and did as he was told. He didn’t remark on the role reversal, since he liked the order and was happy to obey it. His fingers splayed on either side of her ass, groping the warm skin underneath his palms as he devoured her. He forced his heavy eyelids to lift so he could gaze up her body, tuning into the signals she unwittingly sent. The erratic pattern of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest, the tightening of her muscles.

Naomi’s legs tested their cuffs as they shook when Amos’s skilled thumb moved in circles over her clit. His other hand applied a calming pressure between her breasts, pressing her down as she tried to sit up and supervise his ministrations. He considered punishing her for it, spanking the back of her thigh and reminding her who was in charge, but didn’t want to. There’d be time for discipline later, if that’s what she wanted. Amos was the boss now, and what he wanted was to please her. It wasn’t classical BDSM, per se, but Amos had never been one who stuck to the status quo. 

Two of Amos’s fingers and the entire bottom half of his face were saturated in her wetness when he pulled away. Naomi always soaked him so deliciously when she came, it was hard to quit. But he remembered vaguely that he was supposed to be the dominant one, so— with a slight reluctance, and a final, tender kiss to the space between her cunt and her asshole— he put some distance between them. 

“What’s in the bag?” he asked. 

“Just a little something for me,” she hinted. Amos hummed inquisitively as he picked up the bag and inspected its contents. The product was already removed from its packaging, which Amos presumed to mean she’d intended for Amos to use it on her. He conjured the device from the depths of the plastic, and clicked through the vibration settings to the highest intensity. 

Without asking permission, Amos tentatively pressed the vibrating bulb of the wand to Naomi’s clit. Her legs tried to kick, but were kept still by the padded cuffs. It was the first time Amos had ever made Naomi scream. He memorized the sound. 

“Should keep quiet, baby girl,” he taunted, though there was no bite to the warning. His vocal chords were gravel in his throat. “Wouldn’t want the crew to come running to check up on you. Door’s not locked.” Her answer was to whine. 

Amos knew that a powerful vibrator, when wielded as such, was a torture device more than an instrument for pleasure. In the week since they’d bought a remote controlled prostate stimulation toy for Holden, Amos and Naomi had already brought him close to crying on it a total of three times. Amos had no such sadistic plans for Naomi, though he was revelling just a little in the sound of her whimpers. 

“Good girl,” he praised with a laugh, letting her recover a little from the tension. “You like that?” She smiled and purred in answer. He licked her softly, barely more than a kiss to her clit, as a reward for both her and himself, then kissed his way up her torso. When their mouths connected, he pressed the button on the vibrator again, and tasted the moans as they poured from her bitten lips. 

The med chair was hardly big enough for him to mount her, but he made do, covering her smaller body with his, one leg firmly on either side of her waist. Their lips connected, disconnected, and reconnected with the same fervor as before, every time like the very first. Naomi choked out half a warning before she came on the vibrator, gasping for her share of the air between them. 

Amos was hard to aching, with no pressure to satisfy his weeping cock. He paid no mind to his own need as he indulged hers, bringing her to orgasm for the second time. He didn’t think he could ever really dominate Naomi. His instinct was to give her everything. It was one of the only instincts he knew he had right. 

“Wanna suck you,” she said weakly, as she came down from her euphoric high. Amos’s cock was on board with the idea, but his brain was suspicious of the motive. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Do you really wanna suck me, or are you too sensitive right now to take a cock in your pussy, and you wanna make me come?” He touched her spent sex with the feather-lightness of a ring finger, and her body shook like it electrocuted her. 

“Half and half?” she answered. Amos hummed thoughtfully. 

“If I offered to come on your tits and acted like that was a courtesy to you, and not just me really wanting to come on your tits, would you see through that?” 

“I would. Are you gonna do it anyway?” 

“Hope so.” 

“Knock yourself out,” she permitted, then added, “you’re licking it up,” like that was a downside. He uncuffed her hands to remove her bra, which was apparently too expensive to spill all over, even though Amos asked very, very nicely. When she curled her hand around the base of his cock, it didn’t take long for him to finish. 

“Good puppy,” she praised as he buried his face in her chest, drinking in the mess he made with a sloppy hunger. She even let him kiss her after. 

There was no comfortable way to lay together in the medbay, and cuddling after sex was a luxury Amos was no longer willing to give up, so he freed Naomi from her leg cuffs, wrapped her in his robe, and carried her bridal style to her room. She giggled all the way, knowing anyone who caught a glimpse of them would know exactly what they were up to. 

As they collapsed on Holden and Naomi’s bed, Amos’s mind went into construction mode, determining the best way to expand the bed to make it Holden’s, Naomi’s and his own. He’d devised a pretty actionable game plan by the time she spoke. 

“You know, there’s another reason why I brought you to the Roci,” she said as she walked her fingers over his chest. “I wanted to run something by you.” Where had Amos heard that before?

“Shoot.” 

“If I wanted to, say, melt down some of the discarded metal from the Roci’s damaged hull and mold it into a different shape, how might you go about doing that?” 

“You’re asking me a blacksmithing question right now?”

“Technically I think it’s metal casting,” she said, which didn’t explain the timing. 

“Sure, uh. You’ll probably have to strip the thermal protection tiles, but I’m sure any material they’re not using in the rebuild has busted insulation already, so that won’t be hard. After that, guess it depends on what part of the ship you’re tryin’ to melt, but it’s mostly titanium aluminide, so a plain old propane torch would get hot enough to do it. Once you got spaceship soup, all you need is a mold, which you could buy from a real metal shop or make outta sand. But you knew all that. What’s the question behind the question?” 

“Do you think that’s the easiest way to make a ring?”

“I guess the other option would be working the metal into wire and shaping it, but I don’t know how pretty that’ll be without a coupla years of practice. Even Naomi Nagata doesn’t become a master jeweler in a day. I think you’re better off with the mold. It’ll be plain, though, nothing fancy.” Naomi looked at him like she was waiting for him to piece something together. He got there eventually. “If that’s your idea of asking me to marry you, it needs workshopping.” 

“It’s not a proposal. It’s more like… a proposal proposal.” He looked at her blankly. “It’s not ‘ _ will _ you marry me’, as much as ‘ _ would _ you marry me?’ ...if I asked.” Amos turned onto his side to face her. She looked more vulnerable than she had when she was tied up, all the smugness gone from her face. Her eyes were wide and round, her lashes long. His brain, for some reason, conjured a memory of Mei Meng, spitting a wad of chewed-up spaghetti into her hand and holding it out to Amos with that same expectant expression. Maybe that’s what he and Naomi were to one another. Two children who don’t know any better, offering their hearts in their palms with wide eyes. Maybe it wasn’t so good a metaphor, but Amos wasn’t a poet. 

“Okay.”

“So that’s a yes?” 

“Would be a yes,” he said, “if you asked.” She smiled. 

“Good. Now I just gotta figure out when and where to do the actual proposal,” she told him. Amos suddenly had a thought that made him want to laugh. He stifled the response, acting casual. On the inside, he’d never been more excited. 

“How ‘bout this weekend?” he suggested. “Saturday, we can go somewhere nice for dinner.”

“That soon?”

“Making the rings shouldn’t take more than a day, maybe two. Other than that, why wait? I wanna be your husband.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Saturday it is,” she said. 

“Let’s go find us a ring mold, then,” he resolved. She snuggled closer to his chest. 

“In a minute.”


	22. orange theory fitness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bawk bawk

“Hey, mom,” Holden said into his hand terminal. It was his fourth time re-recording the message, floundering for the words to say what he needed to say. It would be so much easier in person. Mother Elise knew exactly how to soothe him, how to unearth the confession without even giving away that she was digging for it. Instead, she was hundreds of millions of kilometers away, and wouldn’t even get his message for close to an hour. 

He started the message as he always did, letting her know he was happy and healthy and taking his cancer meds as prescribed, then told her about their little furlough and the job that forced them to take it. He beat around the bush, talking about himself and Naomi, as if himself and Naomi even existed outside of Amos anymore. Eventually, he sucked it up, and tried to put the  _ Amos News _ into words. 

“And, um… you remember Amos? My mechanic? You met him on Luna, I don’t know if you really talked, but, um… lately, well… he’s kind of… um… kind of...” 

“Kind of what, bug?” Amos interrupted, appearing behind the couch and looping his arms around Holden’s shoulders. Holden had wanted to finish this before Amos got out of bed, but apparently he’d already exhausted the hour between when he woke up and when Amos did. He sighed.

“Kind of interrupting my millionth attempt to tell my parents about him?” Amos grunted something that was less than an apology and barreled down next to Holden on the couch. 

“Are you worried your eight parents will think two spouses isn’t enough?”

“Ha, no.” 

“Is it the gay thing?” 

“What? No. My parents are pretty much as progressive as it gets on Earth. I had to sit through two sex talks when I was thirteen. Elise taught me about girls; Caesar taught me in excruciating detail about boys. If anything, I’m lucky I’m avoiding a very awkward high-five.” 

“Hm,” Amos vocalized, like coming to a conclusion Holden knew he didn’t mean to lead him to. “I get it. I’m not the guy you brag about to your momma.” That wasn’t true. His parents would probably be thrilled about their boy marrying someone who could plausibly come home to visit, even if Holden knew that would never happen. Sure, Amos was a little… abrasive… but he was fiercely protective, and Holden knew his family would appreciate that. 

“It’s not you. My parents just want me to be happy and taken care of. I’ve never been as happy as I am with you and Naomi. I’m well taken care of, and as much as I don’t need to prove that to them, it wouldn’t be hard.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” Amos asked. 

“It’s the timing. How do you say, hey, you know that big guy I introduced to you as my mechanic, and nothing else? Yeah, well we started kinda fooling around two weeks ago today, and now I’m madly in love with him. By the way, I’m putting a ring on his finger in two days and you’re not invited.” 

“You think it’s too soon?” Amos asked. Holden sighed. He didn’t quite know the answer to that. 

“It doesn’t  _ feel _ too soon. It feels like I’ve been waiting years to call you my husband. Even before I loved you, I liked you like crazy, and even before that I would’ve died for you. Everything about this feels right. Until I say it out loud, and then I sound like a crazy person.” 

“I don’t think you sound crazy this time.” 

“This time?” Amos shrugged. 

“Sometimes you sound a little crazy. I mean, blue alien goo, magical ring portals, proto-ghost detective, the time you thought you could pull off a tank top,” Amos listed. Holden frowned. 

“I wasn’t trying to pull anything off, I was sweaty, and it was comfortable,” he argued. “And Naomi said I looked hot.” 

“Oh, you looked hot. You got nice arms. You just also looked like you were selling cologne at a kiosk on Titan. Real trashy knockoff shit, too.”

“That’s… very specific.”

“You ever seen those beefcakes? It ain’t a good look. I like you better in a sweaty tee shirt,” Amos said, leering. 

“Note taken.” 

“Point is, I seen crazy. This ain’t it. So what we’ve only been fuckin’ a couple of weeks? We got something I never thought I’d have in my whole life.”

“I guess you’re right,” Holden said.

“It’s rare, but it happens. I’m sure about this one.” 

“You wanna make this video with me?” Holden asked, and as soon as he did, he regretted it. Amos’s face went a little pale, and he took a long while to answer. Holden could practically hear the debate going on in his head, the war between pleasing Holden and being honest with him. Holden backtracked: “You don’t have to.”

“How ‘bout I go get breakfast while you finish up? I can get the good coffee from that place you like,” he offered in consolation. Holden nodded, trying not to look disappointed. Amos’s face was an apology, but he didn’t reverse course. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” 

* * *

Amos didn’t talk at all through breakfast. Holden talked, and Amos listened, or made just enough eye contact to convince Holden he was listening. It felt familiar, distantly— like what had been normal before they started this whirlwind romance thing. Holden hadn’t realized how much Amos had changed in the past weeks, until he changed back as if exorcised of whatever tender spirit had possessed him. For the past two weeks, he’d been more attentive, more communicative, and overall more affectionate. That all seemed to have vanished as soon as it appeared. 

“You good, big guy?” Holden asked, wiggling his toes against where Amos’s sock met his ankle. Amos was startled by the touch and confused by the question. His body tightened, and he distanced himself minutely. Holden made a mental note not to get too close. 

“What?” he asked, on the defensive. “I’m just sittin’ here.” 

“You’re quiet.” 

“I ain’t got nothin’ to say.” 

“Okay,” Holden said. He tried to drop it, but his head raced with ideas of what might’ve changed since that morning. Was Amos mad Holden asked him to record a message for his parents? That didn’t make sense. If anything, Holden thought he had some right to feel offended Amos turned him down. What he said out loud came out more passive-aggressive than he meant it to be. “I’m not mad that you didn’t wanna record a video for my family.” 

“Didn’t think you were,” he said. “Kinda think you are now.” 

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened between now and earlier that made you wanna give me the cold shoulder.” 

“So I gotta run my mouth twenty-four-seven now, or else I’m cold? ‘Cause that’s gonna get real tired, real quick. I only know so many words.” 

“I just want to talk _ to _ you, not  _ at _ you,” Holden said. 

“Well what happens when I don’t wanna talk at all?” Amos questioned. 

“You could try saying that.” 

“I thought it was implied.” 

“It wasn’t,” Holden informed him. What followed was an electric silence. As they ate their bagel sandwiches and sipped their good coffee, Holden choreographed a heated argument in his mind. He conjured mental images of Amos and himself at each other’s throats, though both spoke in his own voice. Amos didn’t look at him, or at anything, really. 

“Are we fighting?” he asked. 

“No,” said Holden, though his tone was thoroughly combative, and his brain pictured boxing gloves on his balled fists. 

“‘Kay, good,” Amos answered, clearly not picking up on his partner’s frustration. Holden was squaring up to an opponent that didn’t know how he got in the ring. But he was angry— or frustrated, at least— and didn’t know how to back down. Then Amos said something that only stoked the fire under his skin: “Then do you want to fool around?”

Holden breathed. He tried to exhale the anger, but it only served to oxygenate the flames.

“What would that solve?” he asked, instead of  _ are you fucking kidding me? _ or  _ am I only entertaining to you on my hands and knees? _ Amos shrugged. 

“What’s to solve? I thought we weren’t fighting.” Amos was being way too casual for Holden’s liking. Holden felt every ligament that connected them to one another testing its tensile strength between their bodies. He heard the visceral sound of fibrous tissue tearing like paper. Could Amos not feel that? Could he not hear that? Holden’s heart moved in his chest like packing its bags to leave his body. Amos tapped an impatient toe on the floor and blinked absently. The station quaked under only Holden. 

He realized he wasn’t angry, or frustrated. He was panicked. He felt a rift tear open like a ring portal between himself and Amos. Could he really marry someone he couldn’t relate to on any level other than sex? Holden hated himself for thinking that way, but couldn’t rid himself of the doubt. 

“We’re talking,” he said.

“Well, I don’t wanna talk,” said Amos. 

“Well, I don’t wanna fuck,” said Holden. 

“Okay. So what then?” Amos asked. He didn’t match Holden’s tone, there was no anger or competition in his voice. It was an honest question. Amos didn’t know what to do, and was looking to Holden for guidance. Holden let out a long breath, put down his dukes. Amos wasn’t being cold, or picking a fight. Amos was being himself. 

“We could cuddle?” Amos tensed. Right. He didn’t want to be touched. How it made sense that Amos was down to fuck, but not to be casually intimate, was beyond Holden’s capacity for understanding. 

“We could watch porn,” Amos suggested instead. Holden grimaced.

“Okay, here’s something,” Holden said. “I’ve been meaning to get to that nice private gym by Fred’s office. He gave me a couple of guest passes. You wanna go not-talk and not-fuck there?”

“Yeah, okay,” Amos said. 

Not talking on the long walk to the gym was weird for Holden, but he managed to play along with Amos’s stoic silence. He’d expected at least some kind of pithy retort from Amos when he gave the guest passes to the clerk at the gym’s front desk and had to describe the nature of his relationship with Fred Johnson for admittance, but Amos didn’t even make a ‘sugar daddy’ joke. 

It was easier not to talk once they got situated, Holden’s attention focused on lifting. He liked bench pressing in outer space more than he ever did on Earth. Lower gravity meant lighter weights, which made him feel more capable than he was. He wanted to say that to Amos, knowing well he’d be made fun of for it, just to hear his voice. He said nothing. 

Surprisingly, Amos was the first to break the silence. 

“I gotta talk to you about something,” Amos spoke as he pushed a pair of dumbbells up toward the ceiling. Holden let his barbell clink into its resting place, and sat up to listen. Amos didn’t stop lifting. His eyes were glossed over, his expression blank. The sound of his voice was low against the clattering of metal weights. There were a few other patrons in the gym, but they were effectively in private. “So I’m gonna need you to shut up for a sec and let me.” 

Amos glanced over at Holden like he was expecting an answer. Holden didn’t understand the hostility; he’d been shutting up for the better part of an hour. Holden just nodded, and pantomimed zipping his mouth closed with a key. Amos exhaled, kept pressing. There was a long pause before he spoke again, but Holden did nothing to fill it. 

“You know by now my brain doesn’t work like yours or Naomi’s. The shit you do easy, like manners and subtlety and… what’s the word when you feel what other people feel? Apathy?” 

“Empathy?” Holden offered. Amos didn’t look at him to acknowledge the contribution. 

“Sure. And when people get sad or mad at you, you can tell, and you already know why or at least know how to ask. I been getting better at reading your face, I think, but it’s still a shot in the dark like half the time, and I sure as hell don’t know what to  _ do _ about any emotion other than happy or horny. I don’t know if I was born without those instincts, or if they were beat outta me, but I know they ain’t there.” Amos’s face didn’t change once as he spoke. His darkened pupils focused on the push and pull of the heavyweights from his shoulders toward the ceiling. He didn’t look at Holden. He didn’t look sad. If he wasn’t benching more than twice what an olympic bodybuilder would lift on Earth, Holden might think he was sleep-talking with his eyes open. 

“Amos—” 

“Yesterday you said you know these long conversations aren’t my favorite thing,” Amos went on without acknowledging the interruption. Holden couldn’t tell if he was being ignored or going unheard. “It’s not that. I like talkin’ to you, bug, a whole lot. It’s just that this whole ‘communication’ thing takes a lot outta me, so you gotta understand when sometimes I can’t do it for very long.” Amos sat up. Holden thought he was finally going to engage physically in the conversation, but instead he sunk to the mat to do push-ups. 

“Thank you for—” Holden started, taking the transition as a cue to respond. It wasn’t one. 

“Everything I say, I gotta pick out, real careful. And then, on top of that, I gotta choose a face that goes with it, and a tone, and whatever the fuck ‘body language’ is supposed to be, ‘cause I’m still not sure. And then you talk, and I gotta puzzle together all the little bits of what you say and do, and then it’s my turn again to pick out how I’m supposed to react to it. And I gotta do all that while pretending I’m not doin’ it.”

“I didn’t realize—”

“You’re not supposed to realize. I never told anyone any of that. I think Naomi put some of it together, but I never told her. I wanna tell you everything, Jim. But you gotta know it’s not as easy as just tellin’ you or not tellin’ you.” 

Holden thought carefully about how he’d reply to Amos’s confession. He considered his next words with delicate care, positioned the features of his face deliberately to express his understanding. Unconsciously, the captain tried to put himself in Amos’s shoes, to feel what it might feel like to have to work so hard to communicate on a base level. It was confusing and exhausting just to be a tourist in Amos’s mind; he couldn’t imagine living there. 

“Thank you for explaining that to me,” he said with a small smile. He didn’t feel like smiling, but he knew that it was an easy-to-read, universally positive gesture, and he wanted to signal clearly that he wasn’t upset or disappointed. “Is there something I can do to put less pressure on you to act a certain way?” 

“I don’t want you to start acting different. We been getting along fine for a decade. I just need you to be okay when sometimes I gotta tap out of the hard stuff. Even if you don’t get why it’s hard.” 

“Maybe we should have a safeword then,” Holden suggested. Amos finally looked at Holden, his blank expression contorting into a confused one. He got up from the floor and sat back on his bench. Holden’s body responded to Amos all sweaty and on display, but his brain ignored it. 

“A safeword?” 

“Sure. I don’t want being my husband to feel like a job you can’t escape from, but I can’t say we’re never going to have to have big, uncomfortable conversations. I say ‘red’ if I need a break from intense sex. Maybe you say ‘orange’ if you need a break from an intense conversation.” 

“Why orange?” 

“Because I’m not very creative. You got a better word?” 

“Orange works.” 

“Orange it is then,” Holden said. “Do you want to talk to Naomi about this?” 

“Orange,” Amos said, and went back to lifting weights. 

“Okay,” said Holden, and joined him. 

* * *

“Shit, this place has a steam room?” Amos said, walking bare-ass naked around the gym’s locker room. So, Holden supposed, he was back to being his regular self. “I didn’t know you could have those in space. Ain’t water supposed to be rationed?” 

“I guess this is how the other half lives,” Holden said. He was wrapped in a towel, ready to go shower, with more than half a mind to lift his sex ban. He still wanted to prove Amos enjoyed spending time with him outside of sex, but maybe not as much as he wanted to have sex. Amos approached and towered over him from the back, hugging those sweaty, muscled arms around Holden’s waist and resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. 

“Fuck, are we the other half now?” 

“Looks like.” 

“Weird,” Amos said. He turned his head so his lips met Holden’s earlobe and whispered seductively: “I kinda wanna rob you.” There shouldn’t have been anything sexy about that threat. There was. 

“What’s mine is already yours.”

“Yeah?” taunted Amos, pulling the towel from Holden’s waist. When the captain was completely exposed, half-hard and fully desperate, he was yanked back by the hips so his bare ass met Amos’s erection. “You gonna let me take what’s mine, Hole?” 

“Shouldn’t,” protested Holden, unconvincingly. 

“Why not?” 

“I don’t remember,” he said, leaning back into Amos’s embrace. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, exposing his neck to Amos’s lips, offering a taste of the salt on his skin. Logically, they both should’ve reeked of body odor from their workout, but some hormonal reaction in Holden decided Amos smelled sexy. The mechanic’s hand stroked Holden’s hardening cock with gentle movements as he sucked a mark into his neck. “You didn’t happen to bring lube to the gym, did you?” Amos’s feral growl, low and guttural and directly in his ear, was a firm  _ no.  _

“Fancy bathroom like this probably has lotion or something,” Amos suggested. Holden winced at the idea. 

“You’re not putting some perfumey hand lotion in my asshole just ‘cause you can’t wait until we get home,” Holden said. 

“You wanna top?” 

“Do I wanna get a urinary tract infection from fucking  _ you _ with random bathroom lotion? Not particularly.” 

“Such a princess, Jim. Live a little.” As he spoke, Amos pressed the head of his cock to Holden’s entrance, but didn’t push inside. Holden didn’t think Amos would penetrate him raw, but he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure that he’d do anything to stop it if he tried, even if it hurt. “You never fucked with something weird before?”

“No,” Holden lied, his whole body tight from anticipation. The vulgar sound of Amos spitting in his own hand filled him with both dread and excitement. His cock twitched. 

“C’mon. You never once let some naval academy douchebag drill you with shampoo in the shower?” 

“I guess I’m over-protective of my—” his breath hitched as Amos rubbed a slick finger against his hole— “asshole.” He didn’t know if he was finishing his sentence or cursing at Amos. 

“I got a riding crop that says different, but okay.” Holden hissed as Amos pressed just one knuckle past his rim. It didn’t hurt, but his body reacted to the expectation of pain. 

“Amos—” he warned. Amos hushed him.

“Relax. Won’t hurt you,” he said, his free hand stroking through Holden’s curls. Holden believed him. Holden had been hoping the weird lube conversation was over, but Amos was persistent. “You never, ever had anything in this sweet, slutty hole besides spit, lube, and come?” Holden sighed. 

“Fine,” he said. He couldn’t believe he was about to admit it out loud. “One time in highschool I used... an egg white.” Amos stilled. He stopped what he was doing and took a seat on the nearest bench to process the new information. Holden assumed that meant the fingering was over. Pity. 

“An egg? Like, from a chicken?” Amos asked. Holden laid the towel onto the cool ceramic and sat upon it next to Amos. 

“Can we go back to not talking?” Holden asked. Amos laughed. 

“Uh, uh. You ain’t getting outta this. You let somebody screw you with an egg?”

“It was my- um… my hairbrush handle. And it was just the egg  _ white.”  _

“Hairbrush,” Amos repeated back to him matter-of-factly, like he was unfamiliar with the concept. 

“I may have gone through a long hair phase. Like, quite long.” He gestured with a flat hand just above his shoulder to indicate the length. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Amos accused. “You know I think your whole farm boy schtick is cute and so you’re fucking with me.” Holden didn’t know Amos thought he was cute. He blushed. 

“I’m not.” Amos’s grin was so big it looked like it hurt. 

“You’re telling me you, with your long curly hair in a cute little ponytail, separated an egg— like, cracked an egg into a bowl and manually removed the yolk— and used the white to fuck yourself in the ass.” 

“Internet said it was a safe alternative to lube.” 

“So is fuckin’ vegetable oil. Coconut oil. Vaseline. Aloe. Shortening. But you said fuck it, I want to screw a baby chicken.” 

“An egg is not a baby chicken. There’s nothing morally unsound about fucking with an egg white. And how can you know enough about safe lubricant to list five alternatives off the top of your head and still be willing to fuck me full of chemical irritants?” 

“I really, really wanted to fuck you,” Amos justified. 

“Wanted? Past tense?”

“Well now I’m just thinking about you with your luscious locks sneakin’ into the kitchen to make assfuck meringue.” Holden rolled his eyes fondly, his cheeks burning red. 

“Fuck you,” he said through his open-mouthed smile. “I’m gonna go shower. Feel free to join.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t want any heart-healthy omelettes getting jealous.” 

“Blow me.” 

In the shower, Amos did. 

### 

* * *

The walk back to the room was pleasant, until it ended, a few meters before the door. Amos stopped in his tracks in front of Alex’s room. Holden had some idea where that was going. 

“Hey, babe?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Holden said, already disappointed in advance of Amos revealing that their problems weren’t all solved and behind them.

“You gonna act all weird and sad if I wanna be alone for a little while?” 

“Of course not,” Holden said. Amos looked him over. 

“You’re doin’ it right now.” 

“I’m trying not to.” 

“You wanna tell me what you’re readin’ into it so I can tell you it’s stupid before you convince yourself it’s true?” 

“You said it was exhausting to have big, hard conversations with me. I get that. I guess I didn’t know just hanging out with me was exhausting, too.” 

“We had fun, Jim. Fun’s exhausting too, sometimes.” 

“Oh,” Holden said sadly. 

“Think about it like this: we have good sex, right?” 

“Yeah,” Holden answered, though he turned the end of the word up just a little like a question. 

“Fuck yeah. Awesome sex. Mind blowing sex, every time. Fuckin’ you’s my second favorite thing to do.” 

“Second to what? Fucking Naomi?” 

“No, dumbass. Hangin’ out with you.” Holden’s heart swelled in his chest as the question that had loomed like a dark cloud over him all day was answered. “Well, the two’a’you, anyway. You know you’re tied. Point is, sex with you and Naomi is fuckin’... spectacular. And when it’s over, most’a the time we crash together, ‘cause we’re all spent and shit. Right? That’s not just me?”

“Not just you.” 

“That doesn’t mean the sex is bad, or tedious, or hard. But it’s still tiring sometimes, right?”

“I guess.” 

“I had a good time with you today, baby bear. I like workin’ out with you, watchin’ those muscles do somethin’ other than look pretty. I’m not sad or mad, or thinkin’ whatever you think I’m thinkin.’ I just ain’t been alone for real in two weeks.” 

“You could’ve.” 

“I didn’t know how to ask. I’m asking now.” 

“Okay.”

“I love you, Jim,” Amos said, pressing their foreheads together. Holden closed his eyes and breathed Amos in. It felt like a bigger goodbye than it was. He didn’t know when he became some teenage boy who couldn’t be apart from his boyfriend for a couple of hours. He didn’t think he was, really, but something about this felt more momentous than a  _ see ya later.  _ Especially if Amos was volunteering the L-word, completely unprompted. 

“Are you just saying that because it’s what I need from you?”

“Yes. And you’re just letting me leave right now because it’s what I need from you. These are the things we give to each other, because we love each other. That time I said it ‘cause it’s true.” 

“I love you, too,” Holden said softly. 

“I know you do, little chicken.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” 

“Mmm, we’ll see, egg boy," he teased, and ruffled Holden's hair. "Take Naomi out for dinner. I’ll be back before you hit the hay.” 

“Okay.” 

Amos kissed him, and then he was gone. Holden returned to their room alone.  



	23. and on the 12th day

Naomi smoothed out the wrinkles on the newly-made bed, then stood back to admire her handiwork. The clock on the wall of the Rocinante’s captain’s quarters marked the afternoon shift’s end, and she’d been hard at labor since halfway through the morning shift. It was worth it to imagine the look Jim would have on his face when he saw that she’d expanded their bed frame to fit the width of two mattresses. It was worth it to imagine sinking into the covers with Amos on her one side and Jim on the other. 

When she returned to the room, Jim was alone on the couch with a worn paperback in his lap. He always dove for cover in the pages of _Don Quixote_ when things got complicated. Naomi sat under his legs and rubbed his belly as he read. 

“Amos needed some alone time,” Jim said eventually, conversationally, answering the question she’d have asked if she wasn’t trying not to interrupt. She nodded. 

“How are you feeling about that?” 

“I figure I’m not entitled to an opinion.”

“You’re always entitled to your feelings, as long as you’re not an asshole about it.” 

“I guess I’m just worried,” he offered cryptically. 

“Tell me more.” Jim sighed. She knew that he knew whatever he was about to say was irrational. She also knew that if he kept it inside too long he’d convince himself it was perfectly sane. Jim covered his face with his book as he asked: 

“If two weeks of being my boyfriend is so difficult and exhausting, how is Amos supposed to handle eighty years of being my husband?” 

“Eighty?” 

“However long. This is forever, right?” 

“No, yeah,” she said. That part was obvious. “I just forgot Earthers live to be like a hundred and twenty. Go on.” 

“Yeah, well, our line of work, probably not, but still. I thought everything was going so well. But today Amos was so distant.” 

“Distant? Amos? That’s surprising?” 

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I guess I got used to the new teddy bear version of Amos. I like him. But today he was just… fatigued. And it scared me.” 

“He’s been working really hard to be that teddy bear you like so much. I don’t blame him for being tired.”

“I’m not blaming him for anything,” Jim insisted. Naomi didn’t scold him for acting defensive, she simply scritched at his belly to calm him down. He breathed, and spoke softer, like telling her a deep, dark secret. “But what if I’m only in love with the guy he’s pretending to be to make me happy?” Naomi let out a long breath. She was used to Jim’s occasional paranoia, but this insecurity felt especially wacky to her. She had no doubt in her mind that Jim was in love with Amos. She didn’t know why he had so much trouble believing it himself. 

“He’s not pretending to be anything, Jim. But if you can’t still love him when he needs to be alone, that’s something to be honest about sooner than later.”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried.” 

“I wish there was some way I could convince you there’s nothing to worry about. Amos is used to being alone, and you’re used to being monogamous. If everything just suddenly started going off without a hitch, _then_ I’d be worried it was all gonna blow up. But we’re dealing with things as they happen. I’m proud of us for that.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Amos doesn’t like to explain himself. If he felt safe telling you he needed space, that’s huge. The Amos I used to know would’ve just picked a fight with you ‘til you left him alone.”

“You’re probably right.” 

“I know you don’t like it when you can’t fix things. But Amos isn’t broken.” 

“I know,” Jim said, definitively. Then, less sure: “What if I am?” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I know my anxiety about this is the only thing getting in our way. You and Amos have been perfect. I couldn’t be left alone with my thoughts for two hours without having a crisis.” 

“Then it’s a good thing you have two spouses to keep you company,” Naomi offered lightly. Jim didn’t acknowledge the comment. Naomi took his prolonged, thoughtful silence as an opportunity to reposition herself, maneuvering so they could cuddle horizontally. Jim snuggled easily into the new configuration, discarding his book onto the coffee table. He buried his head in her chest, breathing her in. She scratched at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m scared I’m going to watch myself ruin this, and not know how to stop me,” he admitted. 

Naomi sat with that. She wanted to tell Jim that he wouldn’t ruin anything— that he couldn’t if he tried. That their love was an impenetrable fortress, not a house of cards. But every sentence she formulated felt like a platitude, some empty consolation prize in lieu of any real assurance. No matter what she said, Jim just wouldn’t believe in his own ability to hold them together. But, it dawned on her, he might believe in hers. 

“I’d stop you,” she said. Jim just looked up at her. She looked back with unwavering confidence. “You and Amos are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’m not letting that go without a fight. So… yeah. Go ahead and try to ruin this, Jim. I’d stop you.”

“Thank you,” Jim said. “You always know the right thing to say.” 

“Nah,” she dismissed with a smile, “I just think you’re easily swayed by the accent.” Jim’s expressive face conceded the point. 

They laid there in comfortable silence for a while. Naomi nuzzled against the top of his head, breathing in the something-and-bergamot fragrance of the fancy shampoo Amos and Bobbie both liked to steal from him. He smelled sexy, but in an effortless way, not like he’d drowned himself in cologne to impress anybody. He was clean in the way that made her want to get him a little dirty. 

Naomi contemplated whether or not it was the right time to pivot the conversation in a sexual direction. She didn’t want to derail anything or invalidate Jim’s feelings, but it had been a while since they were alone together, and, well, she was human. 

“Now,” she started, ripping off the band aid, “I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track, but it’s been quite a while since you and I—” 

“Eleven days,” he informed her. Her eyes widened. 

“Eleven days?”

“Since you and I fucked without Amos? Eleven days.” 

“I didn’t know you’d been counting.” 

“I wasn’t. I was just thinking about it. Remember? You rode me, Amos was asleep in bed next to us?”

“I recall.” 

“That was two Sundays ago,” Jim explained, a little sadly. “He didn’t wanna join.” Jim had that look on his face that meant he had something to say. It was pretty much his go-to face. 

“Is this building up to something bigger than ‘let’s fuck’?” she asked. 

“I just don’t want you and me to be the thing that happens when Amos doesn’t wanna join, that’s all.” 

“What can I do for you right now to make you stop worrying about problems that don’t exist? I can sit on your face, would you like me to sit on your face?” He breathed out a laugh, letting her know she’d succeeded in lightening the mood. 

“Is my existential dread making you horny?” he pouted playfully. 

“No, your smokin’ hot body is making me horny. The existential dread is just not doing much to stop it.” Jim laughed, and she giggled along as she straddled him. “There’s my sexy boy. C’mon, make love to me. Or do I have to pin you down and make you take it?” 

“Make me take what, exactly?” 

“My cock,” she deadpanned. Jim gave a facetious appetized hum, smiled, and pulled her into a feverous kiss. 

Muscle memory instructed them how to move together as one. Naomi’s hands trailed down Jim’s chest as she grinded her hips in a simulation of sex, teasing away any complex thought until he was moving with her on autopilot. She was breathless before she was even topless, reminiscent of their hot-and-heavy quickies on the Roci, when they had something else to do but needed each other first. Now, they had time. Naomi could tease. 

“Amos made me scream the other day,” she informed him by whisper, her hot breath in his ear. Jim looked at her in confusion, then disbelief. She never screamed during sex. She hardly even moaned. Sure, she only reacted so dramatically because Amos had been holding a vibrator to her clit at its most intense setting, but she didn’t have to say that part just yet. If she happened to _accidentally_ lead Jim to believe she was implying Amos was better at sex than he was, his reaction to that was on him. She could only _hope_ it made him jealous. 

“Did he... hit you?” 

“Nope,” she said, popping the final consonant sound. She kissed his jaw, then trailed identical pecks down his neck toward his clavicle, one between every word as she taunted: “Pure. Uncontrollable. Pleasure.” The noise elicited from the back of Jim’s throat was the human equivalent of a growl— not quite as feral as Amos got, but the animal was there. He yanked the zipper of her coverall down, then parted the halves of the material like curtains to expose her bare shoulders. His palms cupped her breasts through her tank top and bra. There was something very adolescent about it. Desperate. Hungry. Raw. 

“You want me to fuck you like he fucks you?” Jim asked, his voice low and gravelly against the goosepimpled skin of her neck. His hand groped at her ass possessively as he spoke. “Bruise up your tits, spank your ass, paw at your cunt ‘til you come for me?” 

“Mmm, I’d like to see you try,” she challenged. Accepting the dare, Jim flipped her forcefully over onto her back, and pulled her work uniform off the rest of the way. As he did, she made hasty work of her tank top, and they came back together when she was in her bra and panties. 

“You’re so pretty, Boss,” Jim said, mocking Amos as he massaged under the cups of her work bra. She did him a favor and undid the clasp behind her back, letting him take her bare breasts into his hands and suck a nipple into his mouth. 

When she was fully naked and he was still fully clothed, he plucked her up from the couch like moving furniture and carried her to bed. In higher gravity, it would’ve been a clumsier maneuver, carrying a body and kissing at the same time, but her lover accomplished it gracefully. 

Her back met the bedsheets and she watched as Jim removed his own tee shirt, then his sweats, then his boxers. Per tradition, or habit, or impulse— or maybe it was a coincidence that it happened every time he undressed before her eyes— a voice in her head reminded Naomi how lucky she was that a person could be so beautiful and so kind, so loving and so hers, all at once. She wondered if he knew she thought that. She didn’t have to wonder if he thought the same thing about her. 

“I like… this,” she stated, in an effort to vocalize her admiration, as the backs of her knuckles graced the washboard that armored his abdominal. She prodded playfully with a fingertip at his navel, and he wiggled ticklishly away. 

“My belly button?” he asked, giggling. 

“Mhm. Your belly button... your abs… your cock, your ass,” she listed, pulling him down onto her by his hips. “Your beard. Your lips. The little crinkles in your forehead when you get stressed. How you squirm when I tickle you.” She demonstrated. “Your laugh.” 

“Where is this coming from?” he asked when he could catch his breath from his laughing fit. 

“I don’t say it enough. I don’t always know how. But I don’t want you doubting for a second that this is solid. You, me, and Amos. You and me.” 

“Yeah? Even if Amos can make you scream and I can’t?” he asked. There was no real insecurity in it, which was good. 

“Yeah, well, he may have had help from a vibrator,” she admitted. 

“Oh,” he said, prolonging the vowel sound like making some grand discovery, “so the _vibrator_ made you scream. Amos was just there.” 

“Maybe.” 

Jim retaliated against her tickle attack until she was begging for mercy, and soon his hands were travelling elsewhere. 

At some point along the way, they dropped the jealousy routine, and Jim didn’t try to be anything but himself. His hands were warm and gentle, his fingers thick and skilled as they molded her like clay. The pad of his thumb moved over her clit in tandem with two stretching digits, two plush lips mouthing at the bud of her nipple. 

Per another ancient tradition of Naomi’s, the voice in her head remarked upon how good it felt, how generous he was, how every time they fell in bed together was just like the first. She kicked herself for ever buying into the narrative that sex must get stale as time passed, that having each other memorized intimately could be anything but good. Her lover knew just how to bring her to the edge and back and over every time. Jim and Naomi weren’t a candle; they didn’t flicker or burn out at the end of a flimsy wick. Jim and Naomi were the sun— hot and bright and bigger than any of them, blazing for lifetimes, steady and untouchable. She failed to see that as boring. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get there with Amos. 

Moaning luxuriously, she cupped and squeezed her own breast with one hand and ran her fingers through his silky, citrusy hair with the other. He licked her, deeply, intently, like nothing else mattered in the world. 

“Might be time for a haircut, babe,” she suggested mindlessly. She knew Jim didn’t love when she spoke so conversationally with his face between her legs, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Talking to Jim was always a comforting thing— whether she was staring down an alien threat to humanity itself, or just dealing with the minor self-consciousness that came with spreading her legs before another human being. Jim’s voice always filled her with a warm calmness. 

“Yeah? Should I go right now, then?” he teased. She crossed her ankles to keep him there, and pulled him close. 

“No,” she asserted, “stay, puppy.” As if to shut her up, he flicked his tongue against her clit in that way that made her legs shake every time. His thumbs dug into the meat of her thighs just where they met her ass, his firm grip keeping her in place. It kept her quiet for a good two minutes. 

“Where’d you learn to give head so good?” she asked. She didn’t know how he’d go about eating her out and talking to her at the same time, but she expected him to manage it. She knew he’d move heaven and Earth to eat her pussy. 

“A long history of attraction to women who like to give orders?” he snarked. She cupped his face in one hand and gave a playful squeeze, feeling her wetness in his beard. She used to get embarrassed about how she soaked him, but he wore the mess grinning like a badge of honor.

“You callin’ me bossy?” 

“I mean, you did tell me to get a haircut, like, just now.”

“Touche.”

“I like bossy,” he said.

“I know. Come fuck me.” 

His muscular form covered Naomi like a safety blanket. She kissed the taste of herself from his mouth, scraped her teeth against the plush pink of his lips, teased his tongue with her own. Her body accepted him easily, feeling full and warm and safe and taken and whole. When they were too breathless to kiss, she tasted the sweat of his skin as she mouthed at his neck, and his lips preoccupied themselves with cursing and moaning. He held onto her like he was afraid she’d fall, even with the big mattress cradling her in comfort from behind. She held onto him like she was afraid he’d leave, even with the knowledge that he never would. 

She whispered his name— a prayer, a warning, a compliment, and a plea all at once— a word that meant _I love you_ more than _I love you_ ever did. He drank in the sound of it, and returned the favor. A whole conversation was spoken in just two words, just two pairs of eyes meeting, two bodies coming together.

She rubbed her clit lazily with the pad of her middle finger, bringing herself to the very edge as she could feel Jim approaching it. The world fell away as she came on his cock, the grip of her free hand tightening without remorse around his flexing arm muscles. 

The world was a splotchy red-black behind her fallen eyelids, and her heavy breath would be audible if she could hear anything but the beating of her own heart. It was an indescribable thing, the way he made her orgasm every time like never before. Jim might know how to put the feelings into words— pull out some apt metaphor about a wave or an avalanche or a volcano, some Earther analogy that sounded like it’d be a pretty picture if she could picture it— but she was satisfied letting it go unspoken. It felt amazing, and that was all it needed to be. 

When she came back to the world, Jim was softening inside her, as limp and blissed out as she was. 

“Heavy,” she complained weakly. He rolled off her, but didn’t go far. He wrapped himself tightly around her and pressed kisses to the back of her shoulder and neck. 

“I missed that,” he mused.

“Don’t be so dramatic. You came inside me yesterday.” 

“Yeah, but Amos was sitting on my face. I didn’t get to appreciate how good you look when you come for me.” 

“You poor baby. I’ll tell Amos not to sit on your face anymore, how’s that?” she teased.

“Nooo,” Jim whined, then they both laughed. “Just promise me it’s not going to be eleven more days until we’re alone together again.” 

“I promise. Get dressed. It’s been a long time since our last date night, and we’re getting sushi.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm and-they-were-crewmates on tumblr, come send me an anonymous question, prompt, or complaint


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